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IN 


^outliem  (California. 


WITH 


ii  him  Hi)  jew  mm 


BY 


EMMA  H.  ADAMS. 

Author  of  “ Digging  the  Top  Off,”  and  Other  Stories. 


CINCINNATI  : 

W.  WL . B.  C.  PRESS. 

1887. 


9I7.<M 
Ad  It- 


Qpafefull^  ©eJicctfeJ 

TO 

gdy%&JI  £[. 

OF 

Los  Angeles,  California. 

IN 

I¥)en}0Fy-  of  (fli^ui^kereel  f^irjdijesses. 


EF^GK 


HIS  little  volume  consists  of  a series  of  letters 


written  to  certain  Eastern  journals — chiefly  to 
the  Cleveland  “ Leader  and  Herald" — from  South- 
ern California,  during  the  year  1884  and  a few 
weeks  in  the  Autumn  of  1886.  The  writer  has 
chosen  to  present  them  in  chapters,  rather  than  in 
the  form  of  letters.  In  a few  chapters  the  letters 
of  the  earlier  and  later  sojourn  have  been  mingled, 
in  some  instances,  at  the  expense  of  perfect  clearness 
as  to  the  time.  This  the  writer  regrets,  but  having 
strong  reasons,  thought  best  to  adopt  this  plan. 

From  its  nature,  the  book  is  in  but  slight  sense 
a guide  to  persons  visiting  Southern  California,  al- 
though its  pages  embrace  much  reliable  information 
about  the  country  and  its  people.  Still,  so  rapid 
are  the  changes  which  take  place  on  this  part  of 
the  coast,  that  what  was  true  of  it  in  1884,  and 
even  last  year,  may  not  be  true  of  it  to-day.  The 
writer  has  aimed  to  build,  out  of  the  many  sketches 
and  facts  given,  a pleasant  and  readable  book. 
That  the  work  is  free  from  errors  she  dare  not 
affirm.  e.  h.  a. 


5 


CONTENTS- 


CHAPTER.  PAGE. 

I.  Westward  Bound, 9 

II.  The  Southward  Kun, 16 

III.  Its  To-day  and  Yesterday, 20 

IY.  Old  Times  and  Present  Resources, 26 

V.  The  Church  and  School-house  are  the  Pio- 
neers,   33 

YI.  Incidents  of  the  Second  Journey, 38 

VII.  From  Deming  to  Tucson, 44 

VIII.  Arizona, 49 

IX.  Tucson, 55 

X.  From  Tucson  to  Los  Angeles, 58 

XI.  The  City  of  Los  Angeles, 62 

XII.  Invalids  in  Southern  Caifornia, 73 

XIII.  What  Shall  We  Wear? 82 

XIV.  A Former  Home  of  General  and  Mrs. 

Hancock, 86 

XV.  California’s  Great  Historian, 94 

XYI.  An  III  Wind  that  Blew  Good, 107 

XVII.  A Singular  Character, 122 

XVIII.  The  Native  Californians, 131 

XIX.  Schools  of  Los  Angeles, 139 

XX.  A Noble  Pioneer, 150 

7 


8 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER.  PAGE. 

XXI.  Colonization  Schemes, 170 

XXII.  Vineyards  and  Orange  Groves,  . . . . . . 187 

XXIII.  The  Picos  and  the  Surrender  of  Cahuenga,  200 

XXIV.  Time  Beguiles  You, 210 

XXV.  A Minister  to  the  Lowliest, 217 

XXVI.  Roses  — Pampas  Grass  — The  Datura  Ar- 

borea, 227 

XXVII.  Women  as  Cultivators  of  the  Soil,  ....  236 

XXVIII.  San  Pedro, 246 

XXIX.  In  the  Santiago  Canon, 257 

XXX.  A Wonderful  Flower  Festival, 267 

XXXI.  From  Los  Angeles  to  San  Francisco,  . . . 277 


TO  4NP  FPO 

IN 

Southern  California. 


I. 

COestwaf^d  Bound. 

SOON  after  dark  of  a cold  December  night,  1883, 
a carriage  containing  three  persons,  the  writer 
being  one,  whirled  rapidly  over  the  glistening,  snow- 
covered  pavement  toward  the  great  Union  Depot  in 

C . Two  of  us  had  begun  the  journey  to  the 

far-off  Pacific  coast.  The  third  occupant,  after  the 
good-bye  and  the  parting,  was  to  return  alone  into 
the  city. 

Of  us  who  were  westward  bound,  one  was  very 
ill,  and,  as  it  proved,  was  in  a double  sense  hasten- 
ing towards  the  sunset. 

Soon  we  were  nicely  settled  in  the  luxurious 

sleeper.  Around  us  stood  a gratifying  array  of 

9 


10 


THROUGH  KANSAS . 


boxes  and  baskets,  which  loving  hands  had  packed 
with  delicacies  for  the  invalid  and  substantial  pro- 
visions for  the  other. 

Time  sped,  and  when  the  clock  opposite  the  train 
indicated  the  hour  for  starting,  but  two  of  us  were 
left  on  board.  The  wheels  began  to  turn.  A man 
took  the  cards  off  the  cars  and  walked  away.  Then 
out  of  the  noisy  building  we  rolled,  into  star-light 
and  snow-light.  On  we  went,  past  hamlet,  and 
town,  and  farm,  until,  soon  after  sunrise  the  second 
morning,  we  rumbled  into  Kansas  City. 

Then  took  place  those  agreeable  little  episodes  of 
the  trans-continental  journey ; the  transferring  our- 
selves to  the  shining  Pullman  of  the  Atchison, 
Topeka,  and  Santa  Fe  railway,  the  weighing  and 
re-checking  of  baggage,  and  the  taking  breakfast. 
This  all  done,  we  glided  off  across  the  broad,  lib- 
erty-loving State  of  Kansas.  Bare  and  desolate  as 
were  the  famous  plains  at  that  season,  they  were 
made  intensely  interesting  by  the  thrilling  expe- 
riences they  recalled,  connected  with  overland  trav- 
eling in  an  early  day.  Dashing  along  at  a rapid 
rate,  well  protected  from  the  dust  and  cold,  and  as 
comfortable  as  if  in  a parlor,  how  faintly  we  real- 
ized the  depressing  tediousness  of  toiling  over  those 
dreary  stretches  behind  a slow  ox-team! 


WESTWARD  BOUND . 


11 


Armed  cap-a-pie  were  most  of  those  early  ad- 
venturers into  the  wilds  of  the  West,  with  patience, 
hope,  and  courage.  That  is  a curious  and  startling 
element  in  human  nature,  which  leads  men  to  face 
danger  from  choice;  to  push  out  from  comfort  into 
hardship;  away  from  privilege  into  privation.  But 
so  have  men  again  and  again  followed  the  Star  of 
Empire  around  the  world. 

The  sight  of  a vast  plain,  as  of  a great  mount- 
ain, leaves  a deep  impression  upon  the  mind.  Both 
suggest  the  possession  of  mighty  power  by  the  Archi- 
tect of  the  world.  As  to  that,  power  always  im- 
presses us,  be  it  lodged  in  the  winds,  in  steam,  in 
the  little  plant  forcing  its  way.  out  of  the  soil,  or  in 
the  Creator’s  hand,  lifting  the  rocks  up  into  mount- 
ains, or  rolling  millions  of  acres  out  into  plains, 
level  as  a floor. 

As  we  approached  the  western  verge  of  the  State, 
the  country  became  first  undulating,  then  hilly,  and 
as  we  neared  the  border  of  Colorado  it  began  to 
stand  upright,  while  far  in  the  west  snow-capped 
summits  appeared.  It  was  a new  thing  to  be  able 
to  see  objects  eighty  miles  distant,  as  an  attache  of 
our  shining  car  affirmed  were  some  of  the  snow- 
cones  of  the  Greenhorn  Range. 

Running  on  to  La  Junta,  Colorado,  where  the 


12 


THROUGH  KANSAS. 


road  makes  a decided  turn  towards  the  south,  we 
soon  had  a fine  view  of  the  summit  of  Pike’s  Peak, 
declared  by  the  conductor  to  be  one  hundred  and 
fifty  miles  to  the  northward.  Suddenly  foot-hills, 
clothed  with  snow  and  cedars,  sprang  up  all  around 
us.  Then  our  train  began  to  climb,  the  upward 
tendency  of  our  course  being  very  perceptible.  We 
were  pushing  on  towards  the  Raton  Pass,  in  the 
mountains  of  that  name. 

On  our  right  about  this  time,  were  discovered 
the  majestic  Spanish  Peaks,  three  cones,  snow-tipped 
and  looming  up  finely.  Arrived  at  the  base  of  the 
rugged  Raton  Range,  the  strength  of  our  one  engine 
was  insufficient  to  carry  us  up  to  the  tunnel  through 
which  the  road  crosses  the  summit.  Accordingly, 
“ Uncle  Ned,”  one  of  the  largest  locomotives  in  the 
United  States,  and  certainly  a mighty  fellow,  was 
marched  to  the  front  to  “lend  a hand.”  And 
nobly  did  he  perform  the  task.  Sweeping  up  that 
steep  grade  was  a splendid  piece  of  climbing.  A 
strong  wind  blew  down  the  pass  into  the  giant’s 
face.  The  car  in  which  we  rode  strained,  creaked, 
and  swayed  as  we  went  up  and  up,  turning  around 
this  shoulder  and  around  that.  Several  young 
ladies  in  the  car  were  in  terror,  lest  Uncle  Ned 
should  lose  his  foot-hold,  and  let  them  go  rolling 


WESTWARD  BOUND. 


13 


down  the  mountain-side,  to  become  the  victims  of  a 
second  Tehachapi  disaster.  Happily  he  was  shod  for 
the  steep  roadway  of  steel,  and  no  such  casualty 
occurred. 

If  I am  correct,  it  has  been  the  happy  privilege 
of  Uncle  Ned  to  pull  up  to  the  tunnel  in  the  Raton 
Pass,  every  westward-bound  passenger  train  since 
the  completion  of  the  road  to  this  time.  Men  be- 
come attached  to  inanimate  things,  and  I was  told 
that  the  employees  of  the  road  have  a regard  for 
this  engine,  much  like  that  a brave  general  feels  for 
an  intelligent  horse  which  has  borne  hirp  through 
many  a well-fought  battle. 

On  the  train,  much  interested  in  Uncle  Ned’s 
struggle  for  the  ascendency,  were  Mr.  James  C. 
Warner  and  his  wife,  of  Chicago,  bound  foivMel- 
bourne,  Australia.  Mr.  Warner  is  an  English  elec- 
trician, and  among  that  class  of  scientists  is  known 
as  an  able  inventor.  He  goes  to  the  Fifth  Conti- 
nent as  the  agent  of  the  Western  Electric  Company, 
and  in  the  city  of  Melbourne  will  superintend  the 
application,  to  machines  already  in  use,  the  latest 
improvements  in  telephonic  apparatus.  This  com- 
pany, he  informed  me,  controls  the  system  of  tele- 
phones now  working  in  that  city,  and  hopes,  by 
promptly  attaching  thereto  every  important  new 


14 


THROUGH  KANSAS . 


appliance,  to  secure  a market  for  its  instruments  in 
other  towns  of  Australia.  Mr.  Warner  has  more 
the  air  of  an  unpretending  farmer  than  of  a devout 
student  in  the  realm  of  electricity. 

The  boundary  line  between  Colorado  and  New 
Mexico  runs  through  the  Raton  Tunnel,  about  mid- 
way of  its  length.  We  crossed  this  line,  eight 
thousand  feet  above  sea-level,  a couple  of  hours 
after  dark.  A sensation  of  descent,  as  distinct  as 
that  we  had  experienced  of  ascent  in  going  up,  told 
us  the  moment  we  had  passed  this  confine.  This 
brought  us  into  Colfax  County,  New  Mexico,  one 
of  the  largest  and  most  promising  sections  of  the 
Territory.  It  is  a well-known  stock  region  of  the 
South-west.  During  the  night  our  route  lay,  first, 
amid  austere  mountain  scenery,  and  then  across 
broad  mesas  and  plains. 

In  the  following  sketches,  which  pertain  partic- 
ularly to  New  Mexico  and  Arizona,  I have  mingled 
the  accounts  of  two  trips  across  the  Great  American 
Desert,  between  which  nearly  three  years  inter- 
vened. With  the  exception  of  a single  episode  or 
two,  I have  so  woven  these  together  as  to  make  them 
read  like  the  observations  of  one  journey,  ignoring 
dates,  and  endeavoring  only  to  present  clearly  the 


WESTWARD  BOUND. 


15 


facts  gleaned.  Instead  of  receiving  detriment  by 
the  arrangement,  it  is  believed  the  reader  will  rather 
be  benefited.  Should  it  appear  necessary  to  intro- 
duce a date  at  any  point  for  the  clearer  apprehen- 
sion of  the  reader,  it  will  be  done. 


II. 


She  Southward  F^uet. 

A STAR-ROUTE  MAN. 

URING  the  night  we  drew  up  at  a small  town 


named  “ Dorsey,”  after  the  famous  “ Star 
Route ” Senator,  now  a resident  of  New  Mexico. 
We  had  supposed  this  town  to  be  located  not  far 
from  Mr.  Dorsey’s  great  stock  farm.  But  in  this 
we  were  mistaken.  The  next  station,  called 
Springer,  is  the  nearer  his  home,  and  is  the  place 
where  he  always  takes  the  cars  when  bound  on  a 
visit  to  the  outside  world.  Mr.  Dorsey’s  immense 
farm,  according  to  a personal  acquaintance  of  the 
ex-Senator,  riding  in  the  seat  next  us,  lies  some 
thirty  miles  from  the  railway.  Upon  it  he  is  now 
erecting  an  expensive  and  handsome  residence, 
“one  staircase  in  which,”  said  the  gentleman,  “will 
cost  him  seven  hundred  dollars.”  Mr.  Dorsey  is 
the  possessor  of  large  flocks  and  herds,  and,  not- 
withstanding the  taint  upon  his  reputation  inflicted 


16 


ALBUQUERQUE. 


17 


by  the  memorable  star-route  investigation,  he  exerts 
some  political  influence  in  the  Territory. 

ANTELOPE,  A WOLF. 

While  we  were  speeding  over  the  plains  in  this 
county  the  second  time,  which  was  by  daylight, 
some  one  raised  the  cry : 

“ See  the  antelope ! see  the  antelope V9 
And  on  looking  out  of  the  windows  we  saw  a 
small  group  of  the  graceful  creatures  quietly  feed- 
ing, a few  rods  from  the  train.  And  not  long  after, 
quite  as  rare  a sight  was  presented,  when  a savage 
wolf  stalked  away  from  us,  over  the  parched  grass. 
He  held  his  head  aloft  and  appeared  as  if  he  did  n*t 
care  a penny  for  the  comfort  of  traveling  by  steam. 

ALBUQUERQUE. 

Morning  found  us  at  Albuquerque,  the  largest 
city  in  New  Mexico,  having  a population  of  about 
ten  thousand  souls.  The  place  received  its  name 
from  the  Duke  of  Albuquerque,  for  four  years  the 
Spanish  Governor  and  Captain-general  of  New 
Mexico,  in  the  seventeenth  century.  It  is  quite 
noted  for  the  educational  advantages  it  possesses, 
while,  as  yet,  no  efficient  system  of  public  schools 
maintains  in  the  Territory.  The  Albuquerque 

Academy  is  a promising  institution,  supervised  by 

2 


18 


NEW  MEXICO. 


Protestants.  There  is  also  conducted  a Catholic 
school  of  considerable  strength ; while  on  a farm 
near  the  city  flourishes  the  United  States  Industrial 
School  for  Indian  Children.  To  this  even  juvenile 
Apaches  are  admitted  without  a fear  of  their  getting 
on  the  war-path.  The  school  is  said  to  have  been 
modeled  after  those  at  Hampton  and  Carlisle. 

As  certain  evidences  of  its  future  growth,  the 
city  points  to  its  central  location ; to  the  rich  val- 
leys lying  north  and  south  of  it;  to  its  contiguous 
coal  and  mineral  mines;  to  its  importance  as  a rail- 
road center,  and  best  of  all,  to  the  activity  and 
public  spirit  of  its  citizens. 

The  first  objects  to  arrest  attention,  on  our  leav- 
ing the  train  for  breakfast,  were  a dozen  or  less 
savage-looking  Indians,  sitting,  standing,  lying 
down,  on  the  broad  veranda  of  the  hotel.  Men 
and  women  were  clad  in  the  same  costume — heavy 
woolen  blankets  wrapped  about  the  shoulders,  and 
thick  leggings  tied  above  the  knee.  The  sky  was 
overclouded,  and  a fierce  wind  swept  every  inch  of 
the  piazza.  Yet  there  they  remained,  bronzed  stat- 
ues, silently  watching  the  passengers  come  and  go, 
until  the  train  pulled  out  southward.  Not  the  ves- 
tige of  a smile,  or  an  emotion,  lighted  up  their 
coarse  features.  Possibly  their  thought  was : 


ALBUQUERQUE . 


19 


“ What  wonderful  beings  these  white-skins  are  !” 
And  possibly:  “What  thieves  and  robbers !”  But 
whatever  their  opinions,  they  will  be  spoken  only 
to  one  another. 

No  sooner  does  one  interested  in  the  human 
race,  enter  New  Mexico,  than  he  becomes  curious 
in  regard  to  certain  Indian  tribes  dwelling  in  the 
Territory.  By  the  term  “Indian^’  I mean,  not 
simply  wild  Red  men,  but  the  inhabitants  of  both 
American  continents  when  first  invaded  by  Euro- 
peans. This  includes  the  nations  and  tribes  of  the 
United  States,  the  peoples  whom  Cortez  subjugated 
in  Mexico  and  Central  America,  and  the  race  whom 
Pizarro  overthrew  in  Peru,  all  of  whom  ethnolo- 
gists now  conveniently  group  together  under  the 
term,  “the  American  race.”  But  arousing  a pro- 
founder curiosity  are  those  earlier  peoples,  who  long 
preceded  the  American  race,  the  ruins  of  whose 
works  are  a marvel  to-day.  Of  their  mighty  builders 
no  reliable  account  can  be  given.  The  very  aspect 
of  New  Mexico  starts  trains  of  thought  about  those 
old,  old  occupants  of  the  land.  How  long  ago 
they  lived,  here,  in  Yucatan,  in  Peru,  no  pen  can 
tell.  So  we  turn  a leaf  and  write  about  the  country. 


III. 


Ims  <§o-Day  and  Yesterday. 


A MELANCHOLY  LAND  — NUMEROUS  FORMER  INHABITANTS  — 
POPULATION  TO-DAY — THE  PUEBLO  INDIANS — THEIR  OLD 
CITIES — MINING  OPERATIONS  AND  SUCCESSFUL  FORM  OF 
GOVERNMENT — THE  SPANISH  INVASION — NEW  MEXICO  AS 
NOW  CONSTITUTED. 


EW  MEXICO  is  a quaint  and  singular  portion 


of  the  United  States.  Thousands  of  acres  of 


it  are  mere  dismal  stretches  of  sand.  Yet  stand 
where  one  will,  mountain  chains  enter  into  the 
landscape.  They  push  out  into  the  desert  in  all 
directions,  reckless,  apparently,  of  all  law  and  order; 
so  that  it  may  truly  be  said:  “ Everywhere  on  its 
surface  the  extremes  of  scenery  meet.”  Though  a 
radiant,  sunny  region,  it  is  yet  a strange  and  lonely 
land ; a land  given  up  to  silence  and  the  winds. 
True,  one  may  not  now,  as  did  Antonio  de  Espejo 
three  hundred  years  ago,  “ travel  fifteen  days  in  the 
province  without  meeting  any  people;”  still,  even 
in  this  year  of  grace  1883,  and  employing  the  mod- 


20 


ITS  TO-DAY  AND  YESTERDAY . 


21 


ern  mode  of  progress,  one  may  ride  for  hours  over 
the  desolate  wastes  and  see  almost  no  inhabitants. 
Occasionally  the  train  dashes  past  a low  adobe  hut, 
far  away  from  any  town,  but  he  catches  no  glimpse 
of  the  inmates.  There  are  no  faces  of  children  at 
the  little  square  windows,  no  forms  in  the  low  door- 
way. The  ordinary  tokens  of  civilization,  seen  all 
along  the  great  railroads  throughout  the  East,  are 
absent  here.  Corn  fields,  wheat  fields,  and  orchards 
are  rare,  except  near  the  villages,  or  in  the  vicinity 
of  the  Rio  Grande. 

Nevertheless,  it  must  not  be  inferred  that  New 
Mexico  is  without  population.  In  1881  it  exceeded 
in  number  of  inhabitants  any  other  territory  of  the 
Union,  except  the  District  of  Columbia.  The  cen- 
sus of  1880  gave  it  nearly  121,000  people,  the 
natives  being  in  strongest  force.  But  what  seems  a 
little  startling,  unless  one  is  conversant  with  the 
past  history  of  this  part  of  our  country,  is,  that  in 
Espejo’s  day  New  Mexico  sustained  a much  greater 
multitude  of  people  than  at  present.  In  the  inter- 
ests of  Spain  that  officer  traversed  districts  which 
embraced  “fourteen,  twenty,  thirty,  and  even  fifty 
thousand  persons.”  This  was  in  the  northern  por- 
tion of  the  province,  however,  and  these  communi- 
ties wer§  assemblages  of  the  Pueblo  Indians,  a 


22 


NEW  MEXICO. 


people  whom  he  found  to  be  not  only  extremely 
industrious  and  living  peaceably  under  their  ca- 
ciques, but  also  possessing  many  of  the  luxuries  of 
life,  practicing  numerous  arts  of  civilization,  and 
exhibiting  toward  strangers  an  ungrudging  hospital- 
ity. A recent  report  by  the  Governor  of  the  Ter- 
ritory asserts  that  ten  thousand  of  these  Pueblos 
now  dwell  in  New  Mexico,  and  offer  to  the  student 
of  ethnology  a subject  as  fascinating  as  when  the 
Spaniards  invaded  the  land.  An  intelligent  writer 
upon  the  times  and  history  of  these  ancient  New 
Mexicans,  says  of  them,  substantially : 

“They  were  a nation  who  lived  permanently  in 
homes,  some  of  them  in  houses  built  of  stone,  five 
lofts  in  height.  They  tilled  the  soil;  constructed 
irrigating  ditches  to  water  their  corn  fields  and 
gardens;  made  thoughtful  provision  against  famine; 
wove  cloths;  wore  painted  mantles;  had  articles  of 
dress  embroidered  in  needle-work;  used  jewelry 
made  of  the  turquois,  emerald,  and  garnet;  and 
administered  wholesome  laws, generations  before  the 
landing  of  Columbus.” 

New  Mexico  abounds  in  legends  and  folk-lore 
relating  to  this  race.  And  the  many  remains  of 
ancient  towns  and  cities,  planted  by  its  members  on 
her  hills,  plateaus,  and  desert  borders,  tell  in  some 


ITS  TO-DAY  AND  YESTERDAY. 


23 


degree  how  they  lived  and  have  passed  away.  Old 
mines,  “ caved  in  and  covered  up,”  together  with 
“ ruined  smelters,  surrounded  by  heaps  of  imperish- 
able slag,”  evince  their  knowledge  of  the  minerals 
with  which  the  mountains  teem.  The  broken 
pottery,  sacred  images,  and  other  domestic  relics 
left  by  them,  have  rendered  New  Mexico  a delight- 
ful field  for  the  archaeologist  and  antiquarian  for 
nearly  a half  century  past. 

A district  particularly  rich  in  these  ancient 
tokens  is  the  county  of  Rio  Arriba,  in  the  north- 
western part  of  the  territory.  Here  the  traveler 
finds  himself  in  the  old  realm  of  the  Cliff*  Dwellers, 
where  now  may  be  seen  the  ruins  of  many  of  their 
villages,  and  where,  buried  out  of  sight  beneath 
mounds  of  slowly  accumulated  soil,  lie  numerous 
others. 

“ Judging  by  the  depth  of  the  earth  above  them,” 
says  one  of  the  officials  of  that  county,  “this  people 
must  have  settled  the  country  thousands  of  years 
ago.”  Some  of  their  ancient  cities  were  of  vast 
extent.  Remains  of  them  exist  in  the  valleys,  on 
the  mesas,  on  the  mountains,  and  far  up  the  sides 
of  rocky  cliffs,  which  present  an  almost  perpendic- 
ular front. 

But  between  the  era  of  the  prosperous  Village 


24 


NEW  MEXICO . 


Indians,  and  the  domination  of  the  Americans  in 
New  Mexico,  there  intervened  another  nation.  It 
came  into  the  country  bearing  the  gospel  of  peace 
in  one  hand  and  the  sword  in  the  other;  came  in  to 
vanquish,  not  to  uplift  and  improve.  It  built  royal 
edifices,  “ exacting  from  the  hitherto  happy  Pueblos” 
slavish  and  unrequited  labor.  And  not  seldom  did 
it  inflict  upon  them  the  cruel  punishments  of  the 
Inquisition.  By  its  rapacious  policy  was  begotten, 
in  the  course  of  years,  a spirit  of  revolt  and  revenge 
which,  in  1680,  turned  the  peaceful  province  into  a 
scene  of  furious  incendiarism  and  bloodshed. 

Perhaps  nowhere  on  either  of  the  American 
continents  where  the  Spaniards  obtained  sway,  did 
they  display  toward  the  races  they  subjugated  a 
greater  tyranny,  or  a more  studied  treachery,  than 
in  the  country  by  themselves  called,  “The  Kingdom 
and  Province  of  New  Mexico,”  and  which  then 
included,  besides  the  New  Mexico  of  our  day,  the 
whole  of  Arizona  and  a portion  of  Colorado. 

The  invasion  of  the  Spaniards  took  place  “about 
one  hundred  years  before  the  Pilgrims  set  foot  upon 
Plymouth  Rock.”  Yet  to-day  the  strong  and 
ornate  structures  they  reared,  some  in  ruins,  others 
in  comparatively  good  preservation,  occupy  many  a 
vantage  ground  of  the  region.  Thus  one  finds  here 


ITS  TO-DAY  AND  YESTERDAY. 


25 


the  eloquent  works,  as  well  as  the  living  represent- 
atives of  two  former  races,  both  of  which  have  lost 
control  of  the  country.  All  this,  and  more,  tends 
to  throw  over  the  Territory  of  New  Mexico  a fas- 
cination and  an  air  of  romance  which  years  will  fail 
to  dispel.  Indeed,  in  greater  or  less  degree,  the 
same  weird  interest  is  aroused  by  all  this  dreamy, 
desert  portion  of  the  United  States.  The  vegeta- 
tion is  unique.  A blue  haze  veils  the  mountains. 
The  distances  deceive.  The  mirages  are  illusions. 

At  the  close  of  the  Spanish  dominion  there 
succeeded  the  Mexican  regime.  This,  in  turn,  was 
followed  by  the  American  occupation  in  1848,  our 
Government  having  acquired  New  Mexico  in  that 

year  by  the  treaty  of  Guadalupe  Hidalgo. 

3 


IV. 

Old  (9IMES  AMD  EJl^ESENip  I^ESOUI^GES. 


ITS  AREA — CHIEF  CITIES — OLD  CITY  OF  SANTA  FE — GOVERNOR’S 
RESIDENCE — OLD  CHURCH  OF  SAN  MIGUEL — ROCKY  MOUNT- 
AIN MEN — RESOURCES  OF  THE  TERRITORY — PRODUCTS — 
AND  FOUR  RIVERS. 


EW  MEXICO,  as  now  constituted,  contains  an 


area  of  121,201  square  miles.  Its  average 
breadth  is  three  hundred  and  sixty-seven  miles;  its 
average  length,  three  hundred  and  thirty-five  miles. 
Among  the  names  of  its  counties  we  find  the  illus- 
trious ones  of  Lincoln,  Grant,  and  Colfax.  Its 
chief  cities  are  Santa  Fe,  the  capital,  Albuquerque, 
already  mentioned,  and  the  point  at  which  the  At- 
lantic and  Pacific  Railway  leaves  the  Atchison, 
Topeka,  and  Santa  Fe  road  for  San  Francisco,  Los 
Vegas,  celebrated  for  its  hot  springs,  Las  Cruces, 
Silver  City,  Deming,  and  some  others. 

In  age  and  historic  interest,  as  well  as  in  legend- 
ary charm,  Santa  Fe,  colonized  and  re-named  by 
the  Spaniards  in  1598,  stands  pre-eminent.  Prob- 
ably no  other  spot  in  all  this  lower  portion  of  our 
land  is  so  rich  in  old  Indian  traditions,  in  memories 


26 


OLD  TIMES  AND  PRESENT  RESOURCES . 27 


of  the  relentless  Spanish  rule,  and  in  reminiscences 
of  the  intrepid  Rocky  Mountain  fur  traders.  Its 
plaza,  streets,  buildings,  and  some  special  precincts, 
are  eloquent  with  the  deeds  of  the  three  races  which 
have  successively  held  sway  there. 

Prior  to  the  Spanish  settlement,  the  place  was 
the  governing  center  for  a group  of  Indian  villages 
which  were  confederated  under  one  cacique,  and 
enjoyed  a remarkable  prosperity,  if  we  may  credit 
the  testimony  of  their  conquerors.  These  were  vil- 
lages of  the  gentle  “Tanos  people,”  upon  whom 
were  executed,  after  1662,  some  of  the  harsh  edicts 
of  the  Inquisition. 

Among  the  points  of  attraction  belonging  to  a 
former  day  are  the  old  Church  of  San  Miguel,  the. 
Cathedral  of  San  Francisco,  Fort  Marcy,  certain 
old  landmarks  of  the  American  fur  traders,  and  the 
structure  called  the  Governor’s  Residence.  The 
latter  is  said  to  be  the  oldest,  and  the  only  building 
in  the  United  States,  preserved  since  the  Spanish 
sway,  which  is  distinctively  called  a palace.  It  is 
now  familiarly  known  as  the  Governor’s  Residence, 
and  is  occupied  by  the  American  Governor  of  the 
Territory.  No  single  feature  of  the  old  city  excites 
more  interest  in  the  minds  of  visitors  than  does  this 
dwelling. 


28 


NEW  MEXICO. 


It  is  a one-story,  adobe  structure,  with  very 
thick  walls,  like  all  such  works  left  by  the  Span- 
iards, and  is  supposed  to  have  been  erected  by 
Count  Penaloza,  chief  executive  of  the  province, 
about  1662.  Around  it  cluster  volumes  of  histor- 
ical associations.  One  of  its  distinctions  is  the  great 
number  of  titled  people  which  have  been  entertained 
within  it,  in  royal  state.  Considering  its  location, 
in  the  heart  of  a great  country,  and  the  fact  that 
from  no  direction  could  it  be  reached,  except  by 
traversing  arid  stretches  of  vast  extent,  or  by  cross- 
ing mountains  rugged  and  bold,  this  feature  is  all 
the  more  noteworthy.  Among  its  guests  have  been 
envoys  of  the  kings  of  Spain,  Mexican  officials,  and 
distinguished  citizens  of  the  United  States. 

Penaloza,  so  runs  the  history,  possessed  not  only 
a decided  taste  for  building  cities  and  fine  edifices, 
but  also  great  tact  for  quelling  Indian  outbreaks. 
At  the  same  time,  he  was  not  the  man  to  meekly 
execute  all  the  decrees  of  the  home  government. 
It  is  related  that  on  one  occasion  he  laid  hold  of  a 
Spanish  commissary-general  and  confined  him  in  the 
palace  for  a week,  in  the  hope  that  quietude  and 
time  for  reflection  might  teach  him  official  modera- 
tion. How  he  succeeded  is  not  stated. 

Modern  writers  have  worked  away  at  the  ancient 


OLD  TIMES  AND  PRESENT  RESOURCES.  29 


Church  of  San  Miguel,  until  most  readers  know  all 
about  it.  The  principal  facts  concerning  the  struc- 
ture, besides  the  history  wrapped  up  in  it,  are  the 
following:  It  is  believed  to  be  the  oldest  church 
edifice  in  the  United  States.  Like  scores  of  similar 
buildings  in  Arizona,  Old  Mexico,  and  California, 
it  was  made  of  adobe,  with  walls  immensely  thick. 
Its  exterior  is  prison-like.  In  the  general  Pueblo 
emeute  of  1680  it  suffered  partial  destruction,  but 
was  restored  thirty  years  later. 

Near  it  stands  a low  adobe  structure,  two  stories 
in  height,  “ known  to  antedate  every  other  house  in 
our  land,”  it  being  the  only  remains  of  the  ancient 
Pueblo  village,  or  capital,  of  Analco,  which,  at 
Espejo’s  advent,  occupied  the  present  site  of 
Santa  Fe. 

In  the  early  years  of  this  century  there  flour- 
ished, at  times,  in  Santa  Fe  such  notable  Rocky 
Mountain  men  as  Kit  Carson  and  Captain  Zebulon 
Pike,  whose  name  is  perpetuated  by  that  peerless 
summit,  Pike’s  Peak,  and  who  once  languished,  for 
some  little  time,  a prisoner  in  the  famous  “ palace.” 
Added  to  these  were  Jedediah  Smith,  the  two  Sou- 
blette  brothers,  the  Messrs.  Fitzpatrick  and  Bridger, 
besides  a score  of  less  eminent  but  not  less  fearless 
traders,  trappers,  and  adventurers,  who,  in  spite  of 


30 


NEW  MEXICO . 


great  obstacles  and  extreme  reverses,  built  up  a rich 
commerce  with  Northern  Mexico. 

The  resources  of  New  Mexico  may  be  grouped 
under  the  heads  of  grazing,  mining,  agriculture,  as 
yet  carried  on  to  an  extent  much  below  the  possi- 
bilities, horticulture,  in  which  encouraging  begin- 
nings have  been  made,  and  endless  openings  for 
manufactures.  Immense  herds  of  cattle,  sheep, 
goats,  and  horses  range  over  its  boundless  pasture 
tracts.  A glimpse  of  these  herds  is  sometimes  ob- 
tained by  the  traveler  as  he  flits  through  the  Terri- 
tory on  the  cars.  Millions  of  acres  are  given  up  to 
this  purpose. 

In  the  mountains  of  New  Mexico  lie  buried  in 
vast  quantities,  gold,  silver,  copper,  coal,  mica,  and 
numerous  other  metals.  Santa  Fe  County,  embrac- 
ing the  celebrated  Cerrillos  anthracite  fields,  twenty 
thousand  acres  in  extent,  together  with  the  Callisteo 
bituminous  banks,  of  equal  size,  and  those  of  Socorro 
County,  on  the  eastern  side  of  the  Rio  Grande, 
represent  the  wealth  of  a kingdom  in  fuel  alone. 

Donna  Ana  County,  one  hundred  and  fifty  miles 
long,  one  hundred  miles  wide,  lying  on  the  border 
of  Old  Mexico  and  well  watered  by  the  Rio 
Grande,  excels  in  semi-tropical  fruit  products. 


OLD  TIMES  AND  PRESENT  RESOURCES . 31 

Every  thing  may  be  grown  there,  from  apples  to 
strawberries,  grown  in  abundance  and  to  perfection. 
Onion  culture  is  also  a prominent  industry  of  the 
district.  The  variety  raised  is  a native  of  Old 
Mexico,  and  has  a great  reputation  for  size  and  fine 
flavor.  In  these  particulars  it  surpasses  the  favorite 
Bermuda  onion.  One  cultivator  of  the  fragrant  (?) 
edible,  says:  “An  acre  of  ground  will  produce 
thirty  thousand  onions,  averaging  one  pound  in 
weight,  and  with  skillful  husbandry  even  fifty  thou- 
sand pounds  may  be  obtained  from  the  same  space. 
The  crop  may  be  marketed  on  the  ground  at  three 
cents  per  pound,  and  will  require  the  steady  labor 
of  one  man  six  months  of  the  year. 

A conspicuous  resource  of  this  county  is  its 
gypsum  plains,  forty  miles  long  by  thirty  miles 
wide.  The  mineral  exists  in  the  form  of  powder, 
and  in  some  localities  is  “piled  in  drifts,  from 
twenty  to  fifty  feet  in  height.”  From  a distance,  it 
is  said,  these  ridges  resemble  banks  of  snow.  Its 
special  value  lies  in  its  being  a fine  fertilizer  for 
wheat. 

Four  great  rivers,  with  many  lesser  streams, 
water  the  Territory  of  New  Mexico.  The  Rio 
Grande  and  the  Rio  Picos  flow  through  its  entire 
length,  from  north  to  south,  and  find  their  outlet 


32 


NEW  MEXICO . 


in  the  Gulf  of  Mexico.  The  latter  is  the  more 
eastern  stream,  and  refreshes  Lincoln  County,  an 
immense  area,  embracing  about  one-fifth  of  the 
Territory. 

Rio  Arriba  County  is  another  mammoth  section. 
Its  altitude  above  sea-level  averages  seven  thousand 
feet.  Its  length  is  two  hundred  and  fifty  miles,  its 
width  ninety  miles.  Through  it  flows  the  river 
San  Juan,  a strong  affluent  of  the  Colorado,  and 
having  many  large  branches  of  its  own. 

Turning  now  to  the  north-eastern  corner  of  the 
Territory,  we  behold  rolling  into  populous  San 
Miguel  County,  from  Texas,  the  Canadian  River, 
an  important  arm  of  the  Arkansas.  With  its  own 
multiplied  tributaries  it  nourishes  a fine  series  of 
fertile  valleys.  In  this  section  the  hills  and  mount- 
ain slopes  bristle  with  forests  of  pine  and  cedar. 
On  the  streams  are  numerous  saw-mills,  busy  cut- 
ting this  timber  into  lumber,  thus  adding  another 
to  the  resources  of  New  Mexico. 


V. 

©HE  (§HUF$GH  AMD  SGHOOL-I?OUSE  AI^E 
THE  glONEEF^S. 


EDUCATION  IN  THE  BROAD  WEST — PUEBLO  WOMEN — OLD  SANTA 
FE  TRAIL — A NEW  MEXICAN  SUNSET — VENUS. 

BEFORE  resuming  the  thread  of  my  story,  after 
this  long  digression,  I wish  to  make  one  or  two 
remarks  on  the  subject  of  general  education  in  this 
and  other  south-western  parts  of  our  country,  and 
to  make  them  in  connection  with  Wallace,  the  ter- 
minus of  a division  of  the  Atchison,  Topeka,  and 
Santa  Fe  Railway,  where  are  located  the  company’s 
shops,  round-house,  and  the  like.  Wallace  is  a 
point  of  interest,  also,  on  account  of  the  liberal 
provision  it  has  made  for  the  education  and  relig- 
ious culture  of  its  people,  and  in  these  respects  it 
is  a typical  Western  town.  It  is  not  unusual  in 
these  towns  to  find  the  church  and  school-house 
going  up  simultaneously  with  the  dwellings.  In- 
deed, in  my  journeyings  I have  seen  a town-site  on 
which  a church,  a school-house,  and  a hotel  were 
among  the  first  buildings  erected,  and  the  men 

laying  out  the  place  were  of  the  shrewdest,  most 

33 


34 


NEW  MEXICO. 


far-seeing  class.  Another  preliminary  step  was  the 
grading  of  the  principal  streets  and  the  laying  of 
durable  pavements.  Then  followed  electric  lights, 
and  the  next  thing  was  a railway  train  thunder- 
ing in. 

It  has  been  reserved  for  the  West,  the  undefined 
but  prodigious  West,  to  reverse  the  order  of  pro- 
ceedings in  founding  towns  and  cities.  The  old 
plan  was  for  a number  of  families  to  appear,  one 
by  one,  on  the  scene,  erect  their  habitations  and  get 
settled  at  their  various  pursuits.  Then  tardily  fol- 
lowed the  church  edifices  and  the  institutions  of 
learning.  Now  the  latter  are  the  pioneers.  They 
move  on,  in  advance  of  the  people,  take  possession 
of  the  ground,  and  are  ready  to  begin  work  when 
the  men  and  women,  the  boys  and  girls,  come  up. 

Now  returning  to  our  journey:  We  were  some 

three  hours  beyond  Albuquerque,  when,  halting  at 
a station  in  the  desert,  our  car  was  invaded  by  a 
band  of  Pueblo  women  carrying  baskets  of  “ pin- 
ions,” a small  nut  gathered  on  the  neighboring 
mountains,  and  which  resembled  a variety  of  brown 
bean  I have  frequently  seen  in  Ohio.  The  fruit 
was  sweet  and  pleasant  to  the  taste,  and  was  offered 
us  at  five  cents  the  tumbler  full.  These  little  women 


THE  OLD  SANTA  FE  TRAIL . 


35 


were  a lively  company,  and  flitted  to  and  fro  in  the 
car,  disposing  of  their  nuts  in  a very  brisk,  business- 
like manner.  They  were  clad  in  indescribable  attire, 
and  evidently  in  expectation  of  seeing  strangers. 
Each  woman  wore  upon  her  head  about  the  follow- 
ing articles:  A square  piece  of  colored  cloth,  a gay 
handkerchief,  and  a sun-bonnet  tied  with  cord  and 
tassels.  The  remainder  of  the  costume  was  simi- 
larly varied,  both  as  to  garments  and  color.  There 
could  be  little  question  but  that  each  one  had 
donned  her  entire  wardrobe  for  the  occasion.  With 
their  coal-black  eyes,  alert  ways,  and  pleasant  ex- 
pression of  countenance,  they  were  agreeable 
women,  notwithstanding  their  swarthy  skin,  short 
stature,  and  stout  bodies. 

THE  OLD  SANTA  FE  TRAIL. 

Not  far  to  the  east  of  us  now,  through  many 
miles  of  the  treeless  desert,  lay  the  celebrated  Santa 
Fe  Trail,  formerly  pursued  by  emigrants  on  their 
way  to  the  great  El  Dorado  of  the  West. 

“ For  a distance  of  ninety  miles  through  New  Mex- 
ico,^ said  a gentleman  familiar  with  the  Territory, 
“this  route  crossed  not  a single  stream  of  running 
water;  and  to  this  part  of  it  was  given  the  name 
of  6 Valley  of  Death/  And  such,  indeed,  it  was. 


36 


NEW  MEXICO. 


Great  numbers  of  men  and  animals  fell  victims  to 
thirst  upon  its  suffocating  sands.” 

Here  and  there  the  precise  locality  of  the  trail 
was  pointed  out  to  us,  as  we  sped  down  the  deso- 
late expanse.  * 

Many  of  the  small  hamlets  which  have  sprung 
up  because  the  railroad  is  here,  are  as  quiet 
and  dreamy  as  the  desert  itself.  No  business 
is  transacting.  No  hum  of  manufacturing  is 
heard.  No  teams  are  at  work.  Not  a woman 
is  seen  abroad  in  the  streets.  No  child  voices 
ring  out  through  the  heated  air.  And  yet  this 
is  sunny  New  Mexico,  a land  which  many  people 
who  have  not  traversed  it,  suppose  to  be  clothed 
with  verdure,  radiant  with  flowers,  and  teeming 
with  inhabitants. 

It  was  a relief,  under  the  circumstances,  to  have 
the  long,  bright  day  wear  away,  and  to  see  the  sun 
go  down.  Suddenly,  thereupon,  fully  one-quarter 
of  the  great  arch  overhead  turned  to  a brilliant 
gold  color.  Half-way  up  to  the  zenith  this  soft- 
ened into  a faint  pink,  while  at  the  horizon  it 
deepened  to  a rich  orange.  Soon  after,  in  the 
midst  of  the  gold,  appeared  the  fair  evening  star, 
its  soft,  silvery  beams  contrasting  strikingly  with 
the  glory  around.  Slowly,  then,  night  dropped  her 


ALBUQUERQUE. 


37 


curtains,  now  concealing  this  range  of  mountains, 
and  now  that.  It  was  nine  o’clock.  We  were  in 
Deming,  the  south-western  terminus  of  the  Atchison 
and  Topeka  road. 

The  only  hotel  was  crowded  with  guests,  wait- 
ing for  a delayed  train  on  the  Southern  road.  Not 
a room  remained  for  the  passengers  from  the  North. 
Happily,  between  the  proprietor  and  a housekeeper 
across  the  plaza  there  existed  a silent  partnership 
in  the  hotel  business,  which  was  made  apparent 
on  such  occasions.  To  her  house,  accordingly,  were 
we  marched,  an  inhospitable  wind  chilling  us  to 
our  very  bones.  Arrived  at  the  place,  we  were 
conducted  up  an  outside  staircase  to  our  rooms,  in 
none  of  which  was  sign  of  fire,  beyond  a warm 
stove-pipe,  which  passed  through  one  of  them  from 
below.  This  was  kindly  assigned  to  the  sufferer  in 
my  care,  and  in  a short  time  weariness  and  desert 
solitudes  were  forgotten  in  sound  sleep. 


VI. 

Incidents  op  juhe  Second  <3oui^ney. 


EARLY  three  years  after  that  night  I again 


passed  over  this  section  of  New  Mexico,  and 
if  the  reader  will  pardon,  I will  insert  here,  be- 
fore we  move  westward  from  Deming,  one  or  two 
episodes  of  that  trip. 

Under  my  care,  by  her  own  request,  was  an  aged 
German  woman,  for  long  years  a resident  of  San 
Francisco.  So  singular  a character  was  she,  such  a 
compound  of  smartness  and  utter  inability,  so  un- 
attractive in  appearance,  and  yet  so  winning  withal, 
that  I presume  to  photograph  her  on  these  pages. 

Upon  entering  the  Pullman  car  at  Los  Angeles, 
I found  her  domiciled  for  the  trip,  and  conversing 
with  a couple  of  genteel-looking  friends.  The 
berth  I had  secured  happened  to  be  opposite  her 
own.  Presently  her  friends  bade  her  “good-bye,” 
and  we  were  alone.  Then  turning  to  me  she  re- 
marked : 

“ May  be  you  are  going  where  I am  ?” 

“Possibly.  I am  going  to  Ohio.” 


38 


INCIDENTS  OF  THE  SECOND  TRIP.  39 

“Is  that  east  of  Medora,  Kansas?” 

“Yes,  a long  distance.” 

“ May  be,  then,  you  ’ll  look  after  me.  I ’ve 
never  been  over  this  road  before.  I live  in  San 
Francisco — thirty  years  now  in  that  wonderful 
city.” 

“I  will,  certainly,  do  all  I can  for  yon.” 

Then  she  proceeded  to  epitomize  her  austere 
history,  by  saying  that  she  had  been  a hard  worker 
all  her  days;  had  made  and  lost  two  or  three  am- 
ple fortunes;  had  buried  her  husband  two  years 
before;  had  been  left  childless,  and  now,  tired  of  a 
silent  home  and  a desolate  life,  she  had  started  for 
Medora,  Kansas,  “expressly  to  take  back  with  her 
a favorite  niece  and  her  family,  to  brighten  the 
house.” 

“Should  they  prove  kind  to  her,”  she  went  on, 
“ and  not  be  too  stuck  up,  the  step  should  be  the 
making  of  them.  But  should  they  forget  the  re- 
spect due  her,  they ’d  just  have  to  pack  up  and  git. 
And,  in  that  event,  she  should  just  take  up  the 
dead  body  of  her  husband  and  git  to  Europe. 
Germany  was  a better  place,  anyhow,  than  this 
wretched,  sandy  country.” 

Hundreds  of  miles  before  reaching  Deming,  she 
became  disgusted  with  the  route,  and  “just  wished 


40 


NEW  MEXICO . 


she  ’d  gone  by  the  Union  Pacific.  That  was  a 
wonderful  route,  through  magnificent  scenery.  But 
on  this  Southern  Pacific  road  she  ’d  seen  nothing 
but  sand,  mountains,  and  twisted  cacti  for  nearly 
thirteen  hundred  miles;  and,  what  was  worse  yet, 
the  attendant  in  the  car  assured  her  there  were 
twelve  hundred  miles  more  of  the  same  thing  before 
she  would  see  Medora.”  Thus  the  good  woman 
vented  her  discontent  upon  the  innocent  country. 

It  was  a singular  aspect  of  her  case  that,  untidy 
as  was  her  appearance,  coarse  as  were  her  manners 
and  features,  she  yet  managed  to  interest  in  her 
behalf  every  traveler  who  happened  to  take  seat 
near  her.  On  leaving  the  car,  men  and  women 
would  shake  hands  with  her  warmly,  wishing  her  a 
safe  arrival  at  “ Medora,”  and  success  with  the 
niece  and  her  family.  To  the  through  passengers 
this  proceeding  became  rather  amusing  toward  the 
last.  At  the  same  time  it  disclosed  a beautiful  side 
of  our  human  nature. 

An  important  part  of  the  woman’s  luggage  con- 
sisted of  a capacious  portmanteau,  crowded  with 
such  fragrant  provisions  as  pickles,  cheese,  ham, 
doughnuts,  and  bologna  sausage.  From  either  one 
of  these  the  odor  could  have  been  endured  ; but 
when  all  had  been  combined  and  confined  for  sev- 


INCIDENTS  OF  THE  SECOND  JOURNEY . 41 


eral  hours,  they  had  the  effect  to  set  her  near 
neighbors  to  devising  an  emigration  scheme  the 
moment  the  receptacle  was  opened.  From  this  sup- 
ply, with  the  addition  of  a cup  of  coffee,  procured 
for  her  at  the  meal  stations,  she  refreshed  herself 
three  times  each  day.  Though  twice  and  a half  my 
weight,  she  seemed  to  regard  me  as  a being  who 
could  avert  from  her  all  the  evils  of  the  way,  and, 
indeed,  but  for  my  oversight  on  leaving  Deming, 
the  poor  woman  would  have  been  doomed  to  spend 
twenty-four  hours  more  in  that  “ horrid  sandy 
country.” 

At  half-past  nine  in  the  morning  we  were  lo- 
cated in  the  cool,  wicker-seated  coaches,  ready  for 
the  flight  northward.  Toward  noon  we  came  in 
sight  of  the  green  fringe  of  the  Rio  Grande.  Cross- 
ing this  stream  we  soon  drew  up  at  Rincon,  a place 
consisting  of  the  station-house  and  a very  comfort- 
able hotel.  Both  are  shoved  up  into  a narrow 
canon,  in  order  to  escape  overflows  of  the  great 
river.  Here,  during  a three  hours’  waiting  for  the 
northward-bound  train  from  El  Paso,  we  witnessed 
a striking  display  of  the  mental  resources  of  the 
Mexican  in  times  of  emergency,  and  also  of  his 
capacity  to  sympathize  with  others  in  condition  of 
suffering. 


4 


42 


NEW  MEXICO . 


Soon  after  our  arrival  one  of  their  race  at- 
tempted, when  in  a state  of  intoxication,  to  leap 
upon  an  incoming  local  train.  One  of  the  brake- 
men,  perceiving  the  man’s  danger,  pushed  him 
away  vigorously.  Enraged  by  this  act,  the  crazed 
fellow  repeated  the  effort,  missed  his  hold,  fell  be- 
neath the  car,  and  was  taken  up  with  one  foot 
severely  crushed.  He  became  sober  instantly. 

Lying  about  on  blankets,  bedding,  and  bundles 
of  apparel  in  the  broad  covered  passage-way  be- 
tween the  two  trains,  were  a score  of  his  country- 
men, unmoved  by  the  accident  and  indifferent  to 
the  victim’s  pain.  There  being  no  physician  within 
miles  of  the  place,  the  wounded  man  was  laid  on 
the  floor  of  this  passage,  without  sign  of  pillow, 
and  freely  dosed  with  whisky,  while  upon  the  man- 
gled foot  was  poured  a stream  of  cold  water.  Mean- 
while, did  he  attempt  to  turn  his  head,  to  move  an 
arm,  or  toss  about  in  his  agony,  his  two  companions 
held  him  as  rigid  as  a statue,  regardless  of  his 
woeful  cry  of  “ Let  me  alone.” 

Distressed  by  all  this,  several  gentlemen,  leaving 
the  cars,  urged  gentler  treatment  and  the  pressing 
need  of  a surgeon.  But  the  brown-visaged  men 
replied  only  by  a shake  of  the  head,  and  a few 
words  uttered  in  the  Spanish  tongue.  The  minis- 


INCIDENTS  OF  THE  SECOND  JOURNEY . 43 

tration  of  whisky  and  water  continued  during  the 
three  hours  of  our  stay,  and  when  we  moved  off 
northward  the  sufferer  still  lay  on  the  floor,  his  foot 
bleeding  but  himself  quiet  and  unconscious  of  pain, 
because  dead  drunk. 

Shortly  before  four  o’clock  of  the  fifth  day  after 
our  departure  from  Los  Angeles,  the  polite  con- 
ductor of  the  train  entered  our  car,  stepped  to  the 
seat  occupied  by  my  German  friend,  and  said,  smil- 
ingly,  “ The  next  station  is  Medora,”  and  then 
passed  on.  How  the  good  woman’s  hands  trembled 
then  as  she  tied  her  bonnet  strings,  clasped  her  reti- 
cule, and  gave  the  half-dozen  pieces  of  her  luggage 
a quick  little  shove  together  to  have  them  ready  for 
a prompt  departure ! Stepping  to  her  side  I said  : 
“Do  not  worry;  I will  help  you  off  the  train.” 

Then  she  calmed  herself  some  and  waited,  and 
finally,  grateful  for  her  cordial  invitation  to  visit 
her  the  next  time  I should  be  in  “that  wonderful 
city,  San  Francisco,”  I bade  her  “good-bye”  in  the 
long-looked-for  Medora,  and  continued  my  flight 
toward  the  Buckeye  State. 


VII. 


Fi^om  Deming  m Sugson. 


OW  let  us  return  to  Deming.  The  reader  will 


remember  we  entered  the  place  at  nine  o’clock 
in  the  evening.  The  next  morning,  which  dawned 
cold  and  gray,  revealed  a small  village  of  possibly 
sixteen  hundred  inhabitants.  In  the  distance,  on 
every  hand,  rose  mountains  blue  and  stately.  Most 
of  the  buildings  were  of  wood,  one  story  in  height, 
and  erected,  evidently,  to  serve  only  until  better 
structures  should  take  their  place.  The  commodious 
hotel,  hemmed  in  on  three  sides  by  railroads,  was 
new  and  well  managed.  Its  bill  of  fare  was  sur- 
prisingly ample,  and  the  cooking  excellent,  for  a 
table  spread  in  the  heart  of  a desert. 

Some  towns  seem  to  have  been  foreordained  to 
become  eminent.  Reputation  attaches  to  them  inde- 
pendently of  size  or  age.  Location  alone  secures  it 
to  them.  This  is  Deming’s  prime  advantage.  The 
village  stands  in  the  path  of  the  ever-increasing 
tide  of  travel  from  the  vast  “East”  to  our  south- 
western coast.  Through  it  pass,  also,  from  the 


44 


FROM  DEMING  TO  TUCSON. 


45 


Pacific  Slope  thousands  of  people  ticketed  to  Texas 
and  the  Gulf  States,  while  multitudes  branch  off 
here  for  all  points  east  of  the  Rocky  Mountains. 
Hence  the  little  town  is  known  far  and  near. 

Deming  is  located  about  forty  miles  north  of  the 
border  of  Old  Mexico,  and  is  a distributing  point 
for  a large  region  of  country.  Its  altitude  above 
sea-level  is  four  thousand  two  hundred  feet.  Un- 
derneath the  place,  some  fifty  feet  below  the  surface, 
lies  an  inexhaustible  supply  of  excellent  water. 
This  advantage  the  citizens  naturally  set  forth  with 
some  eloquence,  situated  as  they  are,  on  a great 
desert  unrefreshed  by  running  streams.  Like  mill- 
ions of  acres  of  this  Southland,  the  region  needs 
water  only  to  render  it  marvelously  productive,  they 
tell  us.  The  general  cultivation  of  the  soil  here^ 
however,  is  much  a question  of  the  future.  Many 
of  the  mountains  around  are  vast  store-houses  for 
valuable  metals  and  minerals. 

Deming  calls  itself  the  half-way  station  between 
Kansas  City  and  San  Francisco,  being  twelve  hun- 
dred miles  from  the  former,  and  nearly  thirteen 
hundred  from  the  latter.  The  Southern  Pacific 
Railway  connects  the  place  with  both  the  Pacific 
and  Gulf  coasts.  It  is  likewise  the  southern  ter- 
minus for  the  narrow-gauge  road  now  finished  to 


46 


ARIZONA . 


Silver  City,  situated  in  a rich  mineral  region.  Pro- 
ceeding westward  as  far  as  Benson,  an  important 
mining  town  of  Arizona,  Deming  has  an  outlet  via 
the  Sonora  Railway  to  the  port  of  Guaymas,  on  the 
Gulf  of  California. 

At  half-past  ten  we  again  pushed  out  into  the 
sand,  with  two  hundred  and  twenty  miles  between 
us  and  Tucson,  Arizona.  All  day  long  we  rolled 
over  the  wild  waste,  our  relation  to  the  mountain 
chains  on  either  hand,  changing  every  hour.  The 
vegetation  of  the  desert  proved  an  interesting  study. 
At  one  little  station  I observed,  to  my  surprise, 
the  Salix  Babylonica  growing  in  a hot  depression, 
where  one  would  suppose  no  green  thing  could 
live.  I noticed,  also,  in  addition  to  several  strange 
varieties,  frequent  large  patches  of  the  cactus  com- 
monly called  “ prickly  pear,”  or  the  cactus  opuntia. 
Here  the  plant  was  dwarfed  in  size  and  the  leaves 
grew  close  to  the  ground. 

But  afterwards,  in  the  city  of  Los  Angeles,  I 
saw  it  attain  a height  of  fifteen  or  eighteen  feet. 
The  trunk  was  bare  of  limbs  to  a height  of  eight 
or  ten  feet,  while  the  top  of  ungainly,  distorted 
branches  spread  out  in  all  directions.  The  last 
time  I passed  this  cactus  tree,  the  edge  of  each 
pulpy  leaf  had  burst  out  into  a circlet  of  yellowish- 


FROM  DEMING  TO  TUCSON. 


47 


red  blossoms,  making  it  a conspicuous  object  in 
the  neighborhood.  The  fruit  of  this  species  is  not 
only  edible,  but  palatable,  and  being  round  at  both 
ends,  reminds  one  of  the  short,  smooth  variety  of 
cucumber,  though  the  color  is  a lighter  green. 

When  crossing  this  desert  the  second  time,  I 
was  favored  with  a sight  of  that  strange  optical 
illusion,  the  mirage.  Happening  to  glance  out  of 
the  car-window,  in  the  direction  of  the  south-west, 
about  four  o’clock  in  the  afternoon,  lo ! there  ap- 
peared a broad,  placid  river  flowing  through  the 
sand.  Inverted  in  its  depths  we  could  plainly  see 
the  summits  of  the  nearest  mountains,  and  also  the 
tops  of  the  tallest  shrubs  close  at  hand.  At  one 
point  the  stream  appeared  to  divide,  and  encircle 
the  base  of  a stately  butte  standing  far  away,  thus 
forming  an  inverted  conical  island. 

“Why!  is  that  a river?”  inquired  a passenger, 
springing  to  her  feet,  and  trying  to  obtain  a clearer 
view  of  the  scene. 

“No,  madam,”  answered  the  conductor,  just 
then  passing  through  the  car.  “There  is  no  water 
within  two  hundred  miles  of  here.” 

But  again  we  have  digressed.  It  is  not  easy  to 
combine  in  one  account  the  observations  of  opposite 
trips  through  a land  like  this.  On  we  fly,  past  acres 


48  . 


ARIZONA. 


of  cacti  and  chaparral,  towards  the  quaint  old  city  of 
Tucson.  Once  more  it  is  night.  The  sun  sinks  be- 
hind the  low  indigo  hills,  rimming  the  horizon  in  the 
west.  The  heavens  are  glorious  half-way  to  the 
zenith.  The  stars  glitter  in  the  azure  sky.  The 
air  grows  cold,  making  necessary  the  fire  glowing 
in  the  huge  stove.  Now  a passenger  steps  to  the 
door,  looks  out  ahead,  returns,  shrugs  his  shoulders, 
and  announces,  “ Tucson  is  in  sight.” 

Presently  the  train  halted  in  front  of  an  excel- 
lent hotel,  kept  by  a family  named  Porter,  whom 
the  writer  has  occasion  long  to  remember,  for  kind- 
nesses shown  her.  Delivering  up  the  checks  for 
our  luggage,  we  stepped  into  an  omnibus  and  drove 
into  the  queer  old  town  for  a ten  days*  sojourn  and 
rest.  Some  little  opportunity  occurred  during  our 
stay,  to  acquaint  myself  with  Arizona  and  its  an- 
cient capital  Certain  general  facts  gained,  appear 
in  the  following  chapter. 


VIII. 


fl^IZONA. 


ITS  SURFACE  — RIVERS  — ARCHAEOLOGICAL  REMAINS  — INDIAN 
TRIBES  — AND  MINING  RESOURCES. 

RIZONA,  once  a part  of  New  Mexico,  em- 


braces a territory  of  sixteen  thousand  square 
miles.  Superficially  it  consists  of  deserts,  plateaus, 
valleys,  and  mountains.  Chains  of  the  latter  trav- 
erse it  in  almost  every  direction,  with  much  rich, 
productive  land  intervening.  The  southern  portion 
is  an  extensive  plain,  but  slightly  elevated  above  the 
sea.  Other  parts  attain  altitudes  of  from  six  to  nine 
thousand  feet.  The  splendid  cone  of  Saint  Francis  \ 
towers  to  a distance  of  eleven  thousand  feet.  The 
Rio  Colorado  is  the  most  notable  stream  of  the 
Territory,  and  forms  a considerable  part  of  its 
western  boundary.  Next  in  importance  is  the  Gila. 
Having  its  source  in  New  Mexico,  it  flows  entirely 
across  the  southern  portion  of  Arizona,  and  joins  the 
Colorado  about  one  hundred  and  sixty  miles  north 


5 


49 


50 


ARIZONA. 


of  the  Gulf  of  California.  Narrow,  swift,  and  shal- 
low most  of  the  year,  it  swells  to  a mighty  torrent 
during  the  rainy  season. 

The  valley  of  the  Gila  appears  to  have  been  the 
seat,  not  only  of  a large  Spanish  colonization,  but 
also  of  a dense  Indian  population,  far  anterior  to 
the  Spanish  occupation.  Portions  of  it  are  dotted 
with  the  ruins  of  ancient  pueblos  and  structures  of 
solid  masonry,  “which  seem  to  have  remained  un- 
tenanted for  centuries.”  There  exist  evidences  of 
long  irrigating  canals  and  other  eloquent  tokens  of 
a busy,  industrial  life.  Some  archaeologists  have 
conjectured  that  a people  numbering  not  less  than 
one  hundred  thousand,  dwelt  in  the  valley  of  the 
Gila,  hundreds  of  years  before  Hernando  Cortez 
ever  saw  Mexico. 

The  Rio  Colorado  is  navigable  several  hundred 
miles  above  the  Gulf  of  California.  At  one  point, 
as  all  the  world  has  read,  its  deep,  resistless  current 
has  plowed  a canon,  surpassing  in  the  majesty  of 
its  scenery  even  the  famous  gorge  of  the  Columbia, 
itself  renowned  for  grand  and  awe-inspiring  sights. 
The  writer  will  carry  in  mind  to  the  end  of  life 
some  of  the  wonders  which  mark  that  rent  in  the 
Cascade  Mountains,  made  by  the  mighty  Columbia. 
The  walls  of  that  portion  of  the  Colorado,  called 


THE  MINING  INDUSTRY . 


51 


the  Grand  Canon,  attain  a perpendicular  height  of 
seven  thousand  feet. 

THE  INDIAN  TRIBES. 

Arizona  still  retains  a large  Indian  population. 
The  tribes  which  live  in  general  amity  with  the 
Americans  are  the  Pimas,  Yumas,  Mojaves,  Mari- 
copas,  Papagoes,  and  some  others.  The  Apaches, 
as  the  newspapers  have  taken  some  pains  to  say, 
are  notably  fierce  and  hostile.  The  friendly  tribes 
are  more  or  less  engaged  in  farming,  stock-raising, 
and  similar  pursuits,  parts  of  the  Territory  being 
admirably  adapted  to  these  purposes. 

THE  MINING  INDUSTRY. 

With  most  other  classes  of  the  people  mining 
appears  to  be  the  leading  industry.  The  mountains 
teem  with  valuable  metals  and  minerals.  Gold, 
silver,  and  copper  are  the  most  plentiful.  Then 
follows  a long  list,  useful  in  the  arts,  and  in  a thou- 
sand ways  helpful  to  man. 

The  subject  of  mining  certainly  forms  the  staple 
for  conversation  in  Tucson,  both  in  the  home  and 
on  the  street.  In  it  women  appear  to  be  as  deeply 
interested  as  men,  and  numbers  of  them  spend 
weeks  of  time  every  year  superintending  the  devel- 


52 


ARIZONA . 


opment  of  mines;  while  others,  at  great  sacrifice  of 
domestic  enjoyment,  leave  their  homes  and  reside 
in  the  rude  camps  months  in  succession,  in  order 
that  the  members  of  their  families  engaged  in 
“ working  claims”  may  have  the  restraints  and  at- 
tractions of  home  life  thrown  around  them. 

As  I pen  these  lines  there  is  loading  up  in  the 
sunny  court  of  this  rambling  adobe  house,  a rough- 
looking, muddy-wheeled  vehicle,  in  which  a young 
man  and  his  mother,  a most  interesting  woman,  are 
about  to  set  out  for  a mine  they  own,  something 
like  a hundred  miles  from  Tucson.  Upon  this 
mine,  within  a limited  time,  according  to  law,  must 
be  performed  a specified  amount  of  work,  else  the 
claim  will  be  forfeited.  The  mother  and  son  are 
to  set  forth  this  morning  to  meet  this  requirement. 
They  came  into  the  city  three  days  ago,  from  min- 
ing property  belonging  to  the  family  in  another 
direction.  On  that  claim  the  husband,  mother,  and 
son  are  making  a home,  until,  as  the  woman  re- 
marked to  me,  “a  wasted  fortune  could  be  repaired.” 
Within  seventy-five  miles  of  her  temporary  mining 
home,  not  another  woman  resides ! 

Such  are  some  of  the  sacrifices  imposed  by  the 
struggle  for  gold  and  silver  in  these  mountains. 
Sooner  or  later  the  precious  ores  cost  the  possessor 


THE  MINING  INDUSTRY. 


53 


all  they  are  worth.  Usually  the  road  is  long  before 
a claim  becomes  remunerative,  even  if  it  prove  a 
remarkably  rich  one.  Great  patience,  perseverance, 
and  courage,  as  well  as  a practical  knowledge  of 
mining,  and  a large  outlay  of  money,  are  the  preface 
to  success.  And  often,  after  the  lavish  expenditure 
of  all  these,  success  hides  out  of  sight. 

It  has  been  estimated  that  from  twenty-five  to 
forty  per  cent  of  the  attempts  to  extract  fortunes 
from  the  heart  of  these  mountains  end  in  ruin. 
The  outlay  is  continual.  The  income  may  never 
come.  Far  surer  of  coaxing  gold  out  of  the  valleys 
is  the  man  who  plants  potatoes  and  corn  therein. 
Still,  Arizona  is  one  of  the  richest  mineral  lands  of 
the  world.  Leaving  gold  and  silver  out  of  the 
question,  it  is  affirmed  that  the  Territory’s  annual 
yield  of  copper  alone  will  in  a few  years  reach  the 
vast  sum  of  twenty-five  million  dollars.  Statistics 
showing  the  enormous  output  of  some  of  the  Arizona 
copper  mines  might  here  be  given,  were  it  my  pur- 
pose to  cumber  this  little  book  with  details  of  that 
character.  I may  add  here,  however,  that  in  the 
opinion  of  a thoughtful  observer  of  the  industry, 
both  here  and  in  Colorado,  “mining,  properly  con- 
ducted, is  one  of  the  most  remunerative  pursuits 
which  men  follow,  and  is  excelled  in  this  respect 


54 


ARIZONA. 


only  by  the  liquor  traffic.”  He  might  have  con- 
tinued: “ There  is  this  marked  difference,  though, 
in  the  getting  started.  Frequently  the  miner  invests 
a fortune  before  he  receives  a farthing  in  return. 
On  the  other  hand,  ten  dollars  will  establish  a 
saloon.  And  not  unlikely,  the  first  day  after  the 
screen  is  adjusted  inside  the  front  door,  revenue 
from  the  modest  stock  of  mingled  water,  chemicals, 
and  alcohol  begins  to  flow  in  freely.” 


IX. 

SlIGSOM. 


ITS  LOCATION — AGE — INHABITANTS — AND  INTERESTING  POINTS. 

HE  city  of  Tucson  stands  in  the  center  of  a 


wide  sandy  plain,  a part  of  the  great  desert  we 
have  traversed  two  days  and  two  nights.  It  lies 
on  the  Santa  Cruz  River,  sixty  miles  north  of  the 
frontier  of  Old  Mexico,  two  hundred  and  twenty 
miles  west  of  Deming,  two  hundred  and  fifty  miles 
east  of  Yuma,  reputed  to  be  the  “ hottest  place  in 
the  world.”  Tucson  is  in  size  the  chief  town  of 
Arizona,  and  has  a population  of  about  fourteen 
thousand.  Prior  to  the  American  regime  it  was  a 
Mexican  military  post  of  some  consequence.  It  is 
now  a mining  center  of  much  influence,  and  is  the 
capital  of  Pima  County,  itself  large  enough  to  make 
a good-sized  state. 

Tuscon,  like  St.  Augustine,  is  an  un-American, 
and,  on  a small  scale,  extremely  cosmopolitan  city. 
A resident  of  the  place  avers  that  on  its  streets 
may  be  heard  eighteen  different  languages.  Amer- 
icans, Mexicans,  Germans,  Russians,  Italians,  Aus- 
trians, Frenchmen,  Spaniards,  Greeks,  the  Chinese, 


55 


56 


ARIZONA . 


Japanese,  Portuguese,  the  African,  Irishman,  and 
Sandwich  Islander  are  all  here,  being  drawn  to  the 
spot  by  the  irresistible  mining  influence. 

In  1694  the  Spaniards  established  a military 
station  here,  for  the  defense  of  their  Mission  of  San 
Xavier.  But  its  Indian  occupation  antedates  that 
day.  So,  under  cloudless  skies,  and  in  sight  of 
haze-mantled  mountains,  the  place  has  dreamed 
away  the  years  for  centuries  past.  It  contains  a 
few  modern  dwellings,  but  the  majority  are  built  of 
adobe,  in  the  style  prevalent  throughout  this  region 
from  an  early  day.  Usually  they  stand  flush  upon 
the  sidewalk,  are  one  story  in  height,  have  the 
floors  laid  upon  the  ground,  and,  exteriorly,  are  but 
straight  white  walls,  pierced  for  doors  and  windows. 
Two  or  three  live  newspapers  find  plenty  to  do 
extolling  the  town,  the  climate,  and  the  buried 
wealth  of  the  territory.  There  are  several  Protest- 
ant churches,  with,  of  course,  a Catholic  house  of 
worship,  and  at  least  two  good  hotels,  the  one  at 
the  railway  station  being  owned  by  the  Southern 
Pacific  Company. 

At  one  side  of  this  hotel  is  fenced  in  a pretty 
green  inclosure,  set  with  trees,  shrubs,  and  unique 
cacti.  On  my  homeward  trip  the  train  halted  here 
for  dinner,  the  Pullman  car  stopping  just  in  front 


TUCSON . 


57  • 

of  this  gem  of  green.  Lazily  leaning  against  the 
fence,  like  so  many  towers  of  Pisa,  were  a dozen 
bronzed  Mexicans,  who  spent  the  twenty  minutes  of 
our  stay  gazing  dreamily  at  the  coaches.  Alone 
among  them  stood  a tall,  handsome  young  woman, 
dressed  in  black,  except  that  over  her  head  was 
thrown  a white  shawl  of  gauzy  texture,  which  fell 
in  folds  around  her  shoulders.  With  one  elbow 
resting  on  the  fence,  and  her  eyes  fixed  upon  the 
engine  breathing  heavily  in  front  of  the  train,  she 
remained  still  as  a statue  until  the  sharp  clang  of 
the  bell,  as  we  moved  off,  roused  her  from  her 
musings.  That  maiden  was  the  Past  of  Arizona 
personified.  It  needed  the  shrill  bell  and  piercing 
shriek  of  the  locomotive  to  break  up  the  chronic 
reverie  of  the  Territory. 

Within  a few  miles  of  Tucson  is  to  be  seen  the 
ancient  church  of  San  Xavier,  in  a state  of  partial 
ruin.  Considering  the  period  in  which  it  was 
reared,  and  the  almost  insuperable  difficulties  over- 
come in  conveying  materials  to  the  spot,  the  work 
is  a wonder.  Reader,  in  making  your  visit  to  the 
( Pacific  coast,  visit  the  structure  if  you  can. 


Fr?OM  Sugson  m Dos  ^nsblbs. 


ANDLE-LIGHTING,  December  18th,  found 


us  again  aboard  the  cars,  bound  for  Los  An- 
geles. The  train,  heavily  loaded  with  passengers 
hastening  to  the  sunny  clime,  was  due  on  the  coast 
next  day  at  sunset.  All  night  we  coursed  over  the 
desert,  a welcome  rain  laying  the  dust  toward  morn- 
ing. Daybreak  greeted  us  at  Yuma,  the  half-way 


Yuma  may  be  imagined  as  a small  town,  lying 
on  the  Colorado,  just  above  the  entrance  of  the 
Gila.  The  place  is  scarcely  more  inviting  than  the 
desert  itself.  As  usual,  the  houses  are  made  of 
adobe  chiefly.  Mexicans  are  the  more  numerous 
class  of  inhabitants;  and  the  climate,  extremely 
mild  in  Winter,  is  insufferably  hot  in  Summer.  A 
fort  in  the  vicinity  is  garrisoned  by  a small  detach- 
ment of  United  States  troops;  and  decidedly  start- 
ling, it  is  said,  are  the  adjectives  the  soldiers  some- 
times employ  to  express  the  high  temperature  which 
prevails  in  the  place  a good  share  of  the  time. 

Yuma  is  the  capital  of  a district  of  Arizona, 


point. 


58 


FROM  TUCSON  TO  LOS  ANGELES. 


59 


once  occupied  by  the  Indian  nation  so  called. 
Over  a century  ago  this  tribe  numbered  above  three 
thousand  persons,  who  styled  themselves  “Sons  of 
the  River.”  History  designates  them  as  being  at 
that  time  a strong,  sensible,  and  energetic  race. 
To-day  the  case  may  be  differently  stated.  Only 
a few  years  ago  the  Yumas  counted  but  nine  hun- 
dred and  thirty  souls,  and  every  one  of  them  was  a 
wreck  physically. 

There  is  still  a day’s  ride  before  us,  and  all  the 
morning  there  is  a genuine  charm  in  the  fantastic 
vegetation  of  the  desert,  and  the  more  so,  as  it  is 
refreshed  by  the  falling  rain.  After  some  hours 
we  enter  the  San  Gorgonio  Pass,  in  the  mountains 
of  that  name,  and  when  at  the  summit  have  at- 
tained the  highest  elevation  between  Deming  and 
Los  Angeles.  The  next  step  is  to  strike  out  upon 
the  great  mesa  which  skirts  for  a distance  of  eighty 
miles,  probably,  the  base  of  the  rugged  Sierra  Madre 
Mountains,  in  full  view  now  on  our  right,  until  we 
enter  the  city.  Of  this  plain  more  will  be  said  in 
a subsequent  chapter. 

From  this  onward  the  stations  become  more 
frequent.  Flowers,  carpets  of  thick,  green  grass, 
and  new  varieties  of  ornamental  trees,  attract  us  at 
all  of  them.  San  Bernardino,  located  a few  miles 


60 


ARIZONA . 


off  the  railway  toward  the  north,  is  the  first  name 
with  which  we  are  familiar.  Carriages  are  in  wait- 
ing to  convey  passengers  thither,  as  the  train  draws 
up  at  the  little  “ outlet  station  ” for  the  place.  San 
Bernardino  is  one  of  the  many  health  resorts  of 
Southern  California  which  are  growing  in  reputa- 
tion. Its  warm  springs  and  peculiar  climate  ren- 
der it  an  especially  propitious  locality  for  the  victims 
of  rheumatism. 

We  next  hear  of  Riverside,  distinctively  a cen- 
ter for  raisin  culture.  To  this  expanding  industry 
and  to  the  place  itself  we  shall  devote  a succeeding 
chapter.  As  we  approach  Colton,  a rapidly  grow- 
ing town,  and  now  important  as  the  point  where 
the  “ California  Southern”  intersects  the  Southern 
Pacific  Railway,  Riverside  lies  nine  miles  to  the 
south-east  of  us. 

At  five  o’clock  in  the  afternoon  our  train  landed 
its  freight  of  human  beings,  trunks,  and  carpet-bags 
at  the  depot  in  Los  Angeles.  Here  we  were  to 
tarry  but  four  days  and  then  urge  our  way  into  the 
Valley  of  the  Ojai,  lying  ninety  miles  north  of  the 
city,  and  reputed  to  be  “the  healthiest  spot  on  the 
globe.”  Rain  having  fallen  most  of  the  day,  the 
streets  of  Los  Angeles  were  narrow  seas  of  mud. 
And  although  the  sun  beamed  out  brightly  just 


FROM  TUCSON  TO  ANGELES. 


61 


then  the  atmosphere  was  chilly.  We  shivered  in 
our  warmest  wraps.  The  question  was:  Are  we 

really  in  Southern  California,  the  land  of  radiance 
and  even  temperature,  of  which  we  have  heard  so 
much  ? It  was  hardly  just  to  let  the  first  hour  decide. 

Driving  immediately  to  the  St.  Charles  Hotel, 
to  whose  kindly  and  sympathetic  manager  we  bore 
letters  of  introduction,  we  were  at  once  made  com- 
fortable with  a warm  room  and  an  appetizing  sup- 
per— I ’m  too  old-fashioned  to  call  the  six  o’clock 
evening  meal,  dinner.  Probably  I shall  get  used  to 
it,  for  that  is  the  name  it  goes  by,  at  all  the  first- 
class  hotels,  in  this  nineteenth  century.  That  “it 
is  not  in  man  that  walketh  to  direct  his  steps,”  soon 
became  sadly  evident  to  us.  The  four  days  length- 
ened to  eleven.  For  one  of  us  they  were  days  of 
pain  and  suffering.  For  the  other  they  were 
crowded  with  anxiety  and  watching.  When  they 
were  passed,  the  sufferer  had  fallen  asleep  until  the 
end  comes.  A few  days  later  he  was  laid  away, 
among  strange  dead,  on  a gentle  hill-slope,  facing 
the  sunset.  Then  the  survivor  took  up  this  pen. 


XI. 

She  toy  or  Los  ^ngeles. 


TPIE  city  of  Los  Angeles,  four  years  ago,  well 
known  to  but  comparatively  few  persons  living 
east  of  the  Mississippi,  appeared  to  have  just  wakened 
from  its  century-long  slumber,  and  to  have  entered 
upon  a career  of  amazing  prosperity.  The  Southern 
Pacific  Railroad  had  been  completed  between  two 
and  three  years  previously,  and  now  formed,  with 
the  Atchison,  Topeka  and  Santa  Fe  road,  a high- 
way of  steel  across  the  formidable  Great  American 
Desert.  By  these  instrumentalities  a toilsome  and 
dangerous  journey,  requiring  months  for  its  accom- 
plishment, had  been  shortened  to  a pleasant  and  every 
way  comfortable,  though  somewhat  monotonous, 
ride  of  about  three  days.  The  effect  was  magical. 
Thousands  of  people  from  all  over  the  region  east 
of  the  Rocky  Mountains  began  pouring  into  South- 
ern California,  the  city  of  Los  Angeles  being  the 
center  from  which  they  radiated  to  everywhere, 
ferreting  out  the  lovely  nooks  for  homes,  and  the 

eligible  situations  for  farms  and  towns.  Thus  was 
62 


THE  CITY  OF  LOS  ANGELES. 


63 


the  old  Spanish  city,  together  with  the  thousand 
charming  hills  and  vales  surrounding  it,  aroused  to 
a new  and  marvelously  vigorous  life. 

The  unwholesome,  one-story  adobe  houses,  once 
the  only  style  seen  in  the  city,  and  still  numerous 
in  the  portion  termed  “ Sonora-town,”  or  the  Mex- 
ican quarter,  were  fast  disappearing,  and  in  their 
stead  were  rising  tasteful  frame  dwellings  for  resi- 
dences, and  durable  brick  structures  for  stores  and 
business  houses.  The  population  of  the  place  did 
not  greatly  exceed  twenty  thousand,  and  was  a mix- 
ture of  many  nationalities.  In  the  next  three  years 
the  number  of  its  inhabitants  nearly  doubled,  and 
now,  February,  1887,  it  claims  forty  thousand  citi- 
zens, a note  received  from  there  to-day,  certifying 
to  that  effect. 

Four  causes,  mainly,  have  promoted  this  aston- 
ishing growth.  These  are:  First,  the  Southern 
Pacific  Pailway,  bringing  hither  not  only  all  the 
East,  but  Northern  California  as  well;  second,  the 
almost  faultless  climate  of  the  region;  third,  the 
astonishing  fertility  of  the  soil;  and  lastly,  the 
sleepless  enterprise  of  its  people.  Among  these, 
English-speaking  Americans  predominate  in  num- 
bers, wealth,  and  influence.  Next  in  numbers  come 
the  Spanish-speaking  Americans,  or  native  Califor- 


64 


CALIFORNIA. 


nians,  of  whom  there  are  in  Los  Angeles  County 
between  ten  and  twelve  thousand.  Then  follow 
the  representatives  of  a dozen  different  languages, 
among  them  a scarcity  of  Frenchmen,  but  a multi- 
plicity of  Chinese  and  Germans.  The  Jews  are  a 
numerous  class,  and  are  said  to  possess  the  prepon- 
derance of  wealth. 

The  city  lies  on  the  west  bank  of  the  Los  An- 
geles River,  inland  from  the  sea,  eighteen  miles,  on 
the  west,  and  twenty-one  miles  on  the  south.  Built 
chiefly  in  the  valley  of  that  stream,  down  which  it 
daily  urges  its  way,  to  the  westward  and  southward, 
it  yet  steadily  pushes  its  limits  up  the  hills  on  the 
north-west,  to-day  taking  possession  of  one  com- 
manding height,  and  to-morrow  of  another.  In- 
deed, the  time  hastens  when  all  that  fine  series  of 
elevations  lying  between  the  town  and  the  San 
Fernando  Mountains  will  be  crowned  with  hand- 
some homes,  and  be  laid  out  in  lawns  and  gardens, 
where  the  visitor  may  delight  himself  amid  an  ex- 
uberance of  trees,  flowers,  and  climbing  vines. 

Many  intelligent  persons  who  have  never  visited 
this  section  of  the  coast,  think  of  Los  Angeles  as  lo- 
cated immediately  upon  the  ocean  shore,  just  as  they 
suppose  Portland,  Oregon,  to  be  situated  upon  the 
brink  of  the  Columbia  River,  and  should  they  sud- 


THE  CITY  OF  LOS  ANGELES. 


65 


denly  be  set  down  in  the  brisk  city,  would  at  once 
look  around  for  a sight  of  the  big  blue  sea,  or 
would  listen  for  the  roar  of  its  tumbling  waves. 
Nor  is  this  lack  of  correct  geographical  knowledge 
at  all  surprising.  One  can  not  know  every  thing, 
and  necessarily  the  maps  do  not  represent  the  facts 
accurately.  It  requires  no  small  fraction  of  one’s 
time  to  acquaint  himself  with  the  details  of, matters 
right  at  one’s  door.  To  grasp  all  that  are  embraced 
within  the  horizon  would  demand  several  “ three- 
score years  and  ten.” 

Los  Angeles  has  two  outlets  to  the  sea,  as  fol- 
lows: Santa  Monica,  a pretty  village  lying  on  the 
coast,  eighteen  miles  west  of  the  city,  was  formerly 
the  chief  port  of  landing,  but  being  somewhat 
ineligible,  and  San  Pedro,  on  the  shore,  twenty-one 
miles  south  of  the  city,  having  been  declared  by  the 
Government  the  port  of  entry  for  Southern  Cali- 
fornia, the  piers  were  removed  from  Santa  Monica, 
and  the  place  became  simply  a sea-side  resort  and 
temporary  home  for  such  invalids  as  are  benefited 
by  close  contact  with  the  ocean.  Thus  exit  from, 
or  entrance  to,  the  metropolis  by  sea  is  confined  to 
San  Pedro,  which,  though  but  an  insignificant  place, 
is  the  entrepot  and  outpot  for  a large  district  of 

Southern  California.  The  point  has  something  of  a 

6 


66 


CALIFORNIA . 


history,  and  a short  chapter  will  be  devoted  to  its 
attractions  further  on. 

If  you  are  not  making  an  ocean  trip,  but  desire 
simply  to  breathe  the  fresh  sea  air  and  rest  awhile, 
you  may  run  away  either  to  Santa  Monica  or  to 
Long  Beach.  The  latter  resort  lies  on  the  eastern 
shore  of  San  Pedro  Bay.  To  both  points  there  is 
railroad  communication  from  the  city,  and  at  neither 
is  Old  Ocean  chary  of  his  tonics.  At  Santa  Monica 
you  have  the  foaming,  roaring  surf,  breaking  in  loud 
thunder  on  the  coast.  At  Long  Beach  you  may 
enjoy  a carriage  ride  of  several  miles  on  the  smooth, 
hard-packed  sand,  in  addition  to  the  bathing;  and 
should  you  choose  the  proper  week  of  the  season 
for  your  visit,  you  may  have  a taste  of  the  literary 
fare  proffered  by  the  “ Chautauqua  Society  of  South- 
ern California,”  which  there  holds  its  annual  ses- 
sions. Excellent  accommodations  are  afforded,  if 
you  have  forgotten  your  tent,  at  both  resorts. 
Long  Beach  boasts  one  of  the  finest  hotels  in  the 
country. 

Not  to  violate  the  custom  of  historians,  I sup- 
pose I should  inform  the  reader  when,  and  by  whom, 
Los  Angeles  was  founded.  Very  briefly  then:  On 
the  4th  of  September,  1781,  a company  of  Spanish 
people — twelve  of  them  men  grown — to  whom  had 


THE  CITY  OF  LOS  ANGELES. 


67 


been  granted,  at  this  point  on  the  Los  Angeles 
River,  a tract  of  land  six  miles  square,  came  upon 
the  ground  and  laid  out  this  city,  giving  if  the 
name  it  bears,  and  allotting  to  it  the  total  tract 
of  land.  All  the  original  streets  traversed  this 
square  diagonally.  And  the  stranger  must  be  quick- 
minded  who  can  to-day  determine  in  which  direc- 
tion he  is  going  without  stopping  to  think.  A 
plaza  was  laid  off  and  improved,  which  is  even  now 
a central  pleasure-ground  of  the  city.  Fronting  it 
on  the  west  was  erected  the  parish  church.  This 
is  still  standing,  an  antique  and  venerable  structure. 
If  I mistake  not,  one  or  two  more  of  the  first  build- 
ings erected  by  the  colony  are  in  existence,  but  one 
by  one  all  that  class  of  houses  must  succumb  to  the 
spirit  of  improvement  so  rife  here. 

Nearly  due  southward  through  this  territory, 
and  east  of  its  middle  line,  flows  the  Los  Angeles 
River.  Some  miles  south  of  the  city  limits  it  joins 
the  San  Gabriel  River,  and  with  it  travels  to  the 
sea  at  San  Pedro,  making  a journey  of  about  thirty 
miles  from  its  source  in  the  Sierra  Madre  Mountains. 

The  Los  Angeles  is  one  of  those  streams  whose 
bed,  at  some  points,  is  above  the  water.  In  other 
words,  it  flows  underground,  or  is  lost  in  the  sand. 
During  the  rainy  season  it  enlarges  to  a broad 


68 


CALIFORNIA . 


river,  with  a powerful  current  and  a dangerous 
shifting  bottom.  Widely  overflowing  its  banks,  it 
sweeps  away  real  estate  and  personal  property  in  a 
most  merciless  fashion.  Scarcely  a season  passes  in 
which  adventurous  men  do  not  lose  their  lives  in 
attempting  to  cross  it  with  teams  when  at  its  flood. 
Both  driver  and  horses  soon  disappear  beneath  its 
restless  quicksands.  But  let  the  early  Autumn 
come ! Then  the  once  raging  torrent  purls  along,  a 
narrow,  shallow,  garrulous  brook,  which  bare-footed 
children  may  easily  ford. 

The  rain-fall  in  Southern  California  during  the 
Winter  of  1884  had  not  been  equaled  in  twenty- 
six  years.  The  Los  Angeles  then  rose  to  a great 
height.  Numberless  small  tenements,  improvidently 
built  too  near  its  brink,  were  swept  from  their 
anchorage  and  borne  away  toward  the  sea,  or  were 
ruthlessly  wrecked  on  the  spot.  From  the  window 
of  my  secure  hill-top  home  I could  look  down  upon 
the  stream  and  witness  its  ravages.  Several  lives 
were  that  winter  a prey  to  its  waters. 

At  a point  near  the  city  a certain  portion  of  the 
water  of  the  Los  Angeles  River  is  taken  up  and 
conveyed  hither  and  thither  through  seventy-five 
miles  or  more  of  canals,  thus  forming  the  Los  An- 
geles Irrigation  System.  In  addition  to  this,  several 


THE  CITY  OF  LOS  ANGELES . 


69 


private  water  companies  supply  the  fluid, from  other 
sources,  to  extensive  districts,  for  house,  lawn,  and 
garden  purposes.  The  value  of  effective  systems  of 
irrigation  to  horticulture  and  vegetable  farming  in 
Southern  California  exceeds  all  estimate.  So  rare 
is  frost  that  a harvest  of  almost  every  product 
which  grows  here,  is  nearly  an  absolute  certainty 
with  a moderate  supply  of  water. 

The  canals  are  called  zangas.  The  superin- 
tendent of  the  system  is  styled  the  zangero.  Nec- 
essarily he  must  be  a man  promptly  attentive  to 
business.  When  the  day  arrives  for  a certain  orange 
orchard  or  vineyard  to  be  flooded,  the  zangero  must 
have  the  refreshing  liquid  ready  to  laugh  and  rip- 
ple around  the  roots  of  the  thirsty  trees,  the  mo- 
ment the  gate  is  opened  which  admits  it  to  the 
premises.  He  must  also  remember  who  wants  it  at 
night,  and  see  that  such  parties  get  it,  and  in  suf- 
ficient quantity;  nor  must  he  fail  to  withdraw  it 
from  them  in  the  morning. 

The  soft  murmuring  of  the  water  as  it  glides 
through  the  zangas  in  some  of  the  beautiful  suburbs 
of  the  city  is  sweet  music  to  the  ear,  a happy  voice 
sending  out  joy  and  gladness.  Wherever  it  is  heard 
are  sure  to  be  seen  verdure,  flowers,  and  fruit. 


70 


CALIFORNIA . 


One  of  the  eomforts  a stranger  appreciates  in 
Los  Angeles  is  its  well-lighted  streets.  The  place 
can  certainly  make  good  its  claim  to  being  the  best 
lighted  city  on  the  continent.  From  the  central 
streets  to  the  most  outlying  alleys  the  darkness  is 
so  far  dispelled  as  to  enable  the  citizens  to  go  about 
with  ease.  Electricity  is  the  agent  by  which  the 
result  is  accomplished.  Mainly  the  light  radiates 
from  a system  of  tall  masts,  so  located  as  to  in  each 
case  illuminate  the  largest  possible  area. 

In  most  cities  lighted  by  electricity  only  the  central 
and  wealthier  portions  enjoy  the  luxury,  the  remoter 
precincts  taking  the  cheaper  illuminators.  Usually 
too,  in  such  cities,  the  high  price  of  property  at  the 
heart  of  things,  drives  the  poor  man  out  into  the 
darkness  for  a home.  In  Los  Angeles  the  light 
has  gone  out  to  this  class,  and  may  be  termed  “the 
poor  man’s  light.”  Thus,  also,  are  the  owners  of 
humble  homes,  as  well  as  the  proprietors  of  the 
more  elegant  ones,  reaping  the  benefit  of  the  aug- 
mented value  of  real  estate  which  the  system  of 
lighting  helps  to  create. 

A peculiarity  of  the  system  is  the  round,  flat 
“hood,”  or  reflector,  which  crowns  every  mast. 
This  both  throws  the  light  upon  the  ground,  and  pre- 
vents its  wasteful  radiation  through  the  atmosphere. 


THE  CITY  OF  LOS  ANGELES. 


71 


The  area  illuminated  by  this  plan  is,  it  is  asserted, 
twenty  times  greater  than  the  space  formerly  lighted 
by  gas  in  the  city,  while  the  cost  of  the  arrangement 
is  only  about  twice  that  of  the  latter.  Per  conse- 
quence, the  citizens  are  constantly  and  generously 
providing  for  an  extension  of  the  facility.  This  is 
soundly  politic;  a casting  of  bread  upon  the  waters, 
which  will  return  a myriad  of  loaves  in  less  than 
'many  days. 

Three  notable  ranges  of  mountains  begirt  the 
city  of  Los  Angeles,  while  farther  away,  in  full  view, 
lie  several  shorter  chains.  Within  some  ten  miles 
of  the  place,  at  their  nearest  point,  and  stretching 
off  eastward  to  the  San  Gorgonio  Pass,  rise  the 
white  summits  of  the  Sierra  Madre,  bold,  rugged 
elevations,  wonderfully  suggestive  of  stability  and 
strength.  So  near  do  they  appear  to-day,  in  this 
strangely  clear  atmosphere,  that  from  my  window, 
when  the  western  sun  lights  them  up,  I can  plainly 
see  into  their  riven  sides.  They  are  the  first  object 
my  eye  rests  upon  in  the  morning,  and  the  last  one 
to  be  shut  out  at  night.  An  indescribable  solace 
have  they  often  proved  to  me,  a stranger  in  this 
beautiful  but  melancholy  land. 

One  distinguished  summit  of  the  range  is  Mount 


72 


CALIFORNIA. 


San  Bernardino,  near  the  village  of  that  name,  and 
sixty-three  miles  from  Los  Angeles.  It  towers  eight 
thousand  five  hundred  feet  above  sea-level,  and  in 
all  dry,  clear  weather  is  visible  from  here.  Another 
lordly  projection  is  Mount  Baldy,  immediately  north 
of  Ontario,  and  easily  accessible  from  that  prosper- 
ous colony.  Though  forty  miles  from  the  city,  the 
monarch  looks  down  upon  the  driving  Los  Angelans 
with  the  air  of  a watchful  deity.  North  of  the  city 
looms  up  the  San  Fernando  range,  shutting  out  the 
fertile  valley  and  the  once  wealthy  mission  named 
in  honor  of  that  saint.  West  of  us  the  Santa 
Monica  Mountains  sweep  proudly  down  to  the  verge 
of  the  Pacific. 


XII. 


Invalids  in  Southern  (©alipof^nia. 


UNLIGHT  Is  the  life  of  Southern  California  at 


any  time,  but  especially  in  Winter.  With 
so  many  snow-capped  mountains  for  near  neigh- 
bors, and  a great  sea  close  at  hand  to  send  in,  every 
now  and  then,  vast  acres  of  fog,  so  dense  with 
moisture  as  to  soon  set  roofs,  door-caps,  and  win- 
dow-ledges to  dripping  musically,  Los  Angeles 
would  prove  but  a sorry  place  for  invalids,  were  it 
not  for  an  abundance  of  sunlight,  and  that  of  a re- 
markable quality. 

Immediately  upon  the  completion  of  the  South- 
ern Pacific  Railway  multitudes  of  ill  people  flocked 
to  this  part  of  the  coast.  The  accommodations  pos- 
sible for  the  limited  population  to  offer  them,  were 
soon  more  than  exhausted,  and  not  a few  sick  per- 
sons sought  ineffectually  for  entertainment.  In  the 
short  time  which  has  since  elapsed  there  have  been 
made  large  additions  in  the  way  of  hotels  and 
boarding-houses;  still  each  winter  the  number  of 
invalids  has  exceeded  the  added  provision  for  their 
comfort. 


7 


73 


74 


CALIFORNIA. 


At  the  present  time  the  city  is  crowded  to  its 
utmost  capacity,  and  hundreds  both  of  invalids  and 
tourists  are  quartered  in  the  towns  adjacent,  making 
the  best  of  the  situation.  No  doubt  many  of  the 
former  class  left  comfortable  homes  in  the  North 
and  East,  with  mistaken  notions  of  both  the  climate 
and  the  conveniences  of  life  here.  Few  realized 
that,  notwithstanding  Southern  California  was  more 
than  a century  ago  in  the  hands  of  the  Span- 
iards, it  is  a comparatively  new  land,  and  among 
improvements  to  come,  are  facilities  for  the  proper 
care  of  a large  force  of  diseased  and  disabled  men 
and  women.  Particularly  true  is  this  of  all  the 
new  and  smaller  villages.  Nowhere  are  there  ample 
hospital  accommodations.  Hotel  room  is  inade- 
quate. Indeed,  many  things  are  but  at  the  starting 
point.  It  deserves  to  be  said,  however,  that  the 
readiness  of  the  citizens  to  serve,  and  even  faithfully 
nurse,  invalid  strangers,  is  something  remarkable, 
and  often  far  exceeds  just  demands.  A more  hos- 
pitable, large-hearted,  and  sympathetic  people  does 
not  exist  than  are  the  American  residents  of  South- 
ern California.  To  this  fact  the  writer  can  bear 
grateful  testimony. 

Recently  an  officer  of  the  Young  Men’s  Chris- 
tian Association,  who,  more  than  any  one  else,  per- 


INVALIDS  IN  SOUTHERN  CALIFORNIA.  75 

haps,  Is  aware  of  the  disappointments  encountered 
by  many  who  come  to  the  coast  for  health,  said  to 
the  writer: 

“ Emphasis  should  undoubtedly  be  laid  by  par- 
ties writing  back  to  the  States,  upon  the  fact  that 
within  a very  short  time  Los  Angeles  has  leaped 
from  a quiescent  old  Spanish  town  into  a rapidly 
growing  American  city,  but  that  as  yet  its  limits 
and  provisions  are  insufficient  for  the  complete  ac- 
commodation of  the  thousands  of  tourists  and  in- 
valids who  converge  here  from  all  parts  of  the 
continent.  The  city  is  simply  taxed  beyond  its 
capacity,  and  in  spite  of  the  excellent  intentions  of 
the  citizens,  some  sick  strangers  fare  hardly. 

“And  another  thing:  Frequently  women  have 
accompanied  husbands  to  this  coast  who  were  just  on 
the  verge  of  death,  and  have  suddenly  been  left  here 
without  means  for  returning  to  their  families.  For 
such  the  city  has  no  proper  refuge  until  they  can 
either  find  employment  or  receive  help  from  their 
friends.  In  several  instances  the  philanthropic 
citizens  have  promptly  contributed  means  for  re- 
turning them  to  their  relatives.” 

These  statements  were  made  in  1884.  Since 
then  the  deficiencies  have  to  a considerable  extent 
been  met.  Large  hotels  and  boarding-houses  have 


76 


CALIFORNIA. 


multiplied  all  over  the  region.  iSSTevertheless,  in  the 
Winter  of  1886,  so  vast  was  the  influx  of  visitors 
from  every  quarter  that  shelter  could  barely  be  found 
for  them  all.  In  the  city  of  Los  Angeles,  at  pres- 
ent, as  will  appear  toward  the  close  of  this  work, 
are  in  progress  active  measures  for  erecting  a spa- 
cious home  for  such  women  as  may  at  any  time  be 
left  here  in  the  pitiable  plight  above  mentioned. 
And  a year  hence,  probably,  abundant  hospital  at- 
tentions can  be  guaranteed  all  those  who  will  require 
such  ministries. 

Consumptives  and  sufferers  from  rheumatism 
usually  picture  to  themselves  an  entire  winter  here 
out  of  doors,  in  the  enjoyment  of  genial  sunshine, 
and  free  from  annoyance  by  cruel  frost  or  piercing 
wind.  But  the  Winters  are  not  uniform.  During 
that  of  1884,  for  instance,  those  invalids  who  sur- 
vived the  change  of  climate,  which  is  very  great 
and  puts  to  an  immense  strain  most  persons  far 
advanced  in  disease,  found  themselves  confined  to 
their  rooms  nearly  one-half  the  time,  and  every 
day  in  need  of  fire,  especially  if  they  were  located 
on  the  sunless  side  of  their  residences.  Added  to 
this,  some  missed  the  gentle  ministries  which  so 
much  conduced  to  their  pleasure  at  home.  Others 
failed,  it  may  be,  to  obtain  the  dishes  which 


INVALIDS  IN  SOUTHERN  CALIFORNIA.  77 


tempted  appetite  and  kept  up  strength.  Under  such 
circumstances,  those  unattended  by  friends  felt  par- 
ticularly desolate.  Their  maladies  rather  increased 
than  relaxed,  perhaps.  Happily  those  who  had  the 
means  could  return  to  their  homes,  if  sufficient 
vitality  remained  to  endure  the  long  journey.  But 
what  could  those  do  who  possessed  but  slender 
purses,  or  had  no  helpful  friends?  They  could  do 
but  one  thing:  abide  where  they  were  until  they 
entered  upon  their  final  rest.  That  has  been  the 
sad  fate  of  many.  Then  a few  Christian  men  and 
women,  or  a half-dozen  members  of  some  benevolent 
order  to  which  they  have  belonged,  will  sorrowfully 
consign  them  to  the  arms  of  Mother  Earth. 

These  are  strong  and  not  very  cheerful  state- 
ments. Yet  are  they  true,  and  scarcely  less  so  to-day 
than  they  were  three  years  ago.  One  needs  but  to 
note  the  number  of  funerals  held  at  the  undertaking 
establishments,  or  to  observe  the  array  of  newly 
made  graves  in  the  cemeteries,  to  be  convinced  on 
this  point.  Most  of  the  graves  in  which  sleep  the 
once  lonely  and  needy,  will  be  found  marked  with 
but  a narrow  board,  and  upon  it  inscribed  the 
occupants’  name,  age,  and  the  date  of  his  death. 

A resident  of  the  city  has  several  times  remarked 
to  me:  “ Should  we  attend  the  funerals  of  all  the 


78 


CALIFORNIA . 


invalid  strangers  who  die  here  we  should  do  little 
else.”  Some  two  weeks  ago  a member  of  one  of 
the  well-known  transcontinental  excursion  firms 
stated  that  of  five  young  men,  victims  of  consump- 
tion, who  came  to  the  coast  with  his  last  company, 
three  passed  away  within  a week  after  their  arrival. 
Not  far  from  our  door  there  entered  into  rest  the 
other  day  a noble  young  woman,  a teacher  in  the 
schools  of  Canada.  She  had  not  a relative  this  side 
the  Dominion.  Hope  of  regaining  health  induced 
her  to  undertake  the  long,  wearying  journey  alone. 
The  draught  upon  her  strength  was  too  great.  Ty- 
phoid fever  came  in  and  ended  the  scene.  Leaving 
means  too  scanty  to  convey  her  remains  to  her 
home,  humane  hands  consigned  them  to  the  grave 
here. 

What,  then,  shall  the  great  army  of  sufferers  in 
our  colder  latitudes  do?  Not  come  to  California? 
Very  decidedly,  no;  not  after  death  is  at  the  door. 
But  come  when  your  disease  begins  to  develop. 
Make  the  sacrifice  of  leaving  friends  and  business 
earlier.  Study  the  climate  of  different  localities  on 
or  near  the  coast.  Or,  what  is  better,  have  your 
physician  do  it  for  you,  and  before  you  leave  home. 
By  all  means,  get  into  the  right  place  for  your  mal- 
ady. Remember  that  sunlight  in  Southern  Cali- 


INVALIDS  IN  SOUTHERN  CALIFORNIA.  79 

fornia  is  as  necessary  to  the  life  of  sick  persons  as  it 
is  to  the  life  of  vegetation.  Hence  secure  rooms,  if 
possible,  which  the  sunlight  enters  at  least  a part  of 
the  day;  if  all  day,  the  better  for  you.  Understand, 
however,  that  not  even  this  potent  agency  can  re- 
store to  health  persons  just  ready  to  die  upon  their 
arrival  here. 

Conversing  with  a leading  physician  of  the  city 
on  this  subject  to-day,  he  expressed  substantially  the 
following  opinions,  which,  though  a partial  repeti- 
tion of  what  has  already  been  said,  I think  best  to 
insert  here: 

In  cases  of  consumption,  where  the  disease  is 
not  so  far  developed  as  to  make  recovery  impossi- 
ble anywhere,  it  is  a good  thing  to  come  to  South- 
ern California,  for  three  reasons.  First — A change 
of  climate  and  locality  is  secured.  Other  things 
being  equal,  this  is  an  advantage.  Second — There 
being,  usually , little  rain-fall,  and  no  frost  to  be 
considered,  especially  on  the  hills,  opportunity  is 
offered  to  live  much  out  of  doors ; and  life  in  the 
air  and  sunlight  is  the  consumptive’s  prime  re- 
quirement. Third — Once  here,  choice  can  easily  be 
made  between  the  moist,  salt  air  of  the  sea,  the  dry, 
bracing  atmosphere  of  the  foot-hills,  the  vigorous 
breath  of  the  open  canons,  and  the  genial  air  of 


80 


CALIFORNIA . 


the  broad,  sunny  plains  or  verdant  valleys.  It  has 
been  learned  that  the  climate  of  no  single  situation 
affects  all  consumptives  alike.  One  will  improve 
on  the  border  of  the  sea,  its  stiff  breeze  and  chill- 
ing fog  helping.  From  these  the  next  patient  must 
run  for  his  life.  Another  will  take  in  mouthfuls 
of  health  with  every  breath  on  a hill-top.  The 
reasons  for  this  are  very  apparent.  In  the  various 
patients  the  disease  is  at  all  stages  of  progress. 
Then  each  sufferer’s  ailment  is  due  to  a different 
cause.  All  these  are  matters  which  should  be  intel- 
ligently studied. 

A prudent  course,  perhaps,  is  to  make  Los  An- 
geles your  initial  point.  From  there  removal  to 
other  localities  can  be  effected  at  small  cost  of  time, 
money,  and  strength.  The  city  lies  with  an  hour’s 
ride  of  the  two  sea-side  resorts  already  named.  And 
decking,  like  lovely  gems,  the  great  plain  which 
skirts  the  base  of  the  Sierra  Madre  Mountains,  from 
the  charming  village  of  Pasadena,  eastward  seventy 
miles  or  more,  are  the  pretty  towns  of  Garvanza, 
Monrovia,  San  Gabriel,  Pomona,  Ontario,  Etiwanda, 
and  San  Bernardino,  all  offering  special  inducements 
in  the  way  of  scenery,  situation,  climate,  good  water, 
or  healing  springs.  All  lie  near  or  upon  the  South- 
ern Pacific  Railway,  and  afford  one  or  more  well- 


INVALIDS  IN  SOUTHERN  CALIFORNIA.  81 


kept  hotels,  while  many  of  the  private  families  open 
their  homes  to  strangers  in  cases  of  exigency.  San 
Bernardino  treats  rheumatic  people  to  mud  baths. 
Ontario  tents  asthmatic  visitors  in  the  mouth  of  her 
San  Antonio  canon.  Consumptives  may  distribute 
themselves  all  over  the  prairie,  as  suits  their  case. 
Santa  Ana,  farther  south  on  the  plain,  is  said  to  be 
an  excellent  point  for  them.  In  some  of  these 
places  there  is  not  so  remarkable  a difference  be- 
tween the  air  of  the  day  and  the  night,  as  at  Los 
Angeles. 

San  Diego,  on  the  coast,  one  hundred  and  thirty 
miles  south  of  Los  Angeles,  and  connected  therewith 
by  rail  and  by  steamer,  undoubtedly  offers  better 
conditions  for  the  cure  of  consumption  and  throat 
disorders  than  does  this  city.  But  once  more  patients 
diagree.  A clergyman  from  the  vicinity  of  Boston, 
who  had  for  several  months  tested  the  climate  of  San 
Diego  for  a severe  throat  affection,  said  he  “ could 
breathe  most  freely  where  fogs  are  frequent.”  On  the 
contrary,  a friend  in  this  city,  similarly  afflicted,  finds 
respiration  most  difficult  in  a moist  atmosphere,  and 
therefore  chose  as  her  place  of  residence  a delight- 
ful hill-top  above  the  altitude  of  ordinary  fogs. 


&5hajp  Shall  we  05eai^? 


THE  question  of  clothing  on  the  Pacific  Coast  is 
an  important  one.  Ordinarily  the  same  ap- 
parel may  be  worn  the  year  round,  and  should  be 
composed  of  such  garments  as  form  the  indoor 
Winter  raiment  throughout  the  East.  Neither  old 
nor  young,  sick  nor  well,  should  stray  hither  un- 
supplied with  both  light  and  heavy  wraps.  Of 
nights  and  mornings  they  are  indispensable  to  com- 
fort, especially  on  days  when  the  sun  refuses  to 
shine.  Happily  such  days  are  few.  As  has  been 
said,  from  the  sun,  in  large  part,  come  the  cheer, 
the  enjoyment,  the  recuperation,  and  strength  so 
ardently  anticipated  by  the  thousands  who  seek  the 
coast  in  Winter.  From  the  first  of  October  until  the 
middle  of  June,  warm  shawls,  Newmarkets,  fur-lined 
cloaks,  and  heavy  overcoats  are  in  brisk  demand, 
except,  perhaps,  at  midday,  and  are  often  welcome 
at  evening  throughout  the  Summer.  Light  cloth- 
ing, made  of  linen,  cambrics,  and  similar  fabrics,  is 


WHAT  SHALL  WE  WEAR f 


83 


never  needed  except  on  a few  days  in  Midsummer, 
and  even  then  can  be  easily  dispensed  with. 

Last  October  there  came  to  Los  Angeles  a lady 
from — somewhere  in  the  East — bringing  an  ample 
Summer  wardrobe,  and  leaving  at  home  most  of  her 
Winter  attire.  She  expected  to  find  the  tempera- 
ture ranging  in  the  neighborhood  of  ninety  or  one 
hundred  degrees.  Late  in  April  that  portion  of 
her  outfit  remained  snugly  packed  in  her  trunks. 
As  she  went  up  the  coast  early  in  May,  passed  the 
Summer  in  San  Francisco,  where  such  apparel  sel- 
dom gets  an  airing,  made  an  Autumn  visit  in  Or- 
egon, and  returned  to  her  home  in  December,  her 
thin  dresses  had  a long,  restful  trip. 

A bright  woman  at  my  side  says: 

“When  I left  Michigan,  a few  years  ago,  a 
doleful  asthmatic,  with  scarcely  a hope  of  relief, 
even  in  Southern  California,  my  friends  laughed  at 
the  idea  of  my  bringing  flannels.  ‘What  possible 
need  of  such  garments/  they  asked,  ‘in  a land  of 
perpetual  bloom  V So  I left  my  warm  underwear 
to  freeze  in  the  Wolverine  State,  while  I did  the 
same  thing  in  Los  Angeles.” 

There  is  another  point : Many  invalids  delay 
their  journey  to  the  Pacific  Coast  until  too  late  in 
the  season,  numbers  coming  towards  the  middle 


84  CALIFORNIA . 

of  Winter.  The  danger  of  taking  cold  is  then 
much  increased,  since  heavy  rains  are  imminent. 
Pneumonia  comes  with  them,  and  is  on  the  alert 
for  strangers  with  weak  lungs,  often  quickly  chang- 
ing the  scene  for  the  sufferers,  by  shutting  out  this 
world.  It  is  stated  that  about  ninety  of  every  one 
hundred  persons  contract  a severe  cold  immediately 
upon  reaching  the  coast.  This  is  a sort  of  toll  the 
climate  exacts  for  the  delights  it  means  to  confer 
afterwards.  A little  caution  exercised  for  some 
days  might  cheat  it  out  of  that  revenue.  Dress 
warmly;  avoid  draughts  of  air;  carry  a wrap  on 
your  arm,  if  you  go  out  at  midday  to  remain  after 
four  o’clock. 

Upon  arriving  in  Los  Angeles  health-seekers 
should  avoid,  particularly  in  Winter,  apartments  on 
the  first  floors  of  brick,  adobe,  and  even  frame 
dwellings,  if  the  floors  are  laid  near  the  ground. 
An  adobe  house  is  seldom  more  than  one  story 
in  height.  The  floors  are  rarely  raised  above  the 
soil;  hence  the  rains  render  them  damp  and  un- 
wholesome. Moreover,  the  initiated  claim  that  the 
older  adobe  residences  are  little  better  than  hot- 
beds for  engendering  malaria.  Malignant  fevers 
lurk  among  their  sand  and  gravel.  In  all  such 
quarters  fire  is  the  more  indispensable,  and  in 


WHAT  SHALL  WE  WEAR? 


85 


Southern  California  the  word  fire  means  something. 
A large  portion  of  the  coal  used  comes  from  Aus- 
tralia, and  each  ton  costs  a small  fortune.  The 
crooked  roots  of  the  “grease-bush,”  together  with 
the  trimmings  from  the  eucalyptus,  pepper,  and 
other  trees,  constitute  the  staple  for  wood.  Coal-oil 
is  meeting  with  some  favor  here  as  a fuel,  but  the 
heat  from  it  is  not  the  most  agreeable  in  living 
rooms  for  the  seriously  ill. 


p Foi^mei^  I?ome  op  General  and 

f?ANGOGI^. 


CURIOSITY  which  finds  satisfaction  in  visit- 


ing localities  where  flagrant  crimes  have  been 
committed,  is  a quality  utterly  lacking  in  the  writer. 
I would  not  walk  one  rod  to  see  where  a notorious 
criminal  had  lived  or  died.  Nor  would  I write 
one  line  to  spread  the  fame  or  perpetuate  the  name 
of  such  a being.  But  I freely  confess  that  I find 
pleasure  in  looking  upon  the  dwelling-place,  in 
contemplating  the  work,  in  standing  beside  the  grave 
of  man  or  woman  who  has  spent  this  life  in  well- 
doing. In  such  places,  in  such  work,  there  is  in- 
spiration. Something  about  them  always  suggests 
the  character  of  the  persons,  their  loveliness,  genu- 
ineness, taste,  and  power,  and  strengthens  you. 

These  notions  found  a practical  application  this 
morning  in  a visit  paid  to  the  former  home  of  Gen- 
eral— then  Captain — and  Mrs.  W.  S.  Hancock,  who 
for  several  years  before  the  Rebellion  were  residents 
of  Los  Angeles.  Descending  the  long,  zigzag,  pub- 
lic staircase  which  leads  from  upper  to  lower  Third 


A FORMER  HOME  OF  GEN, . HANCOCK.  87 


Street,  and  thence  passing  on  down  to  Main  Street, 
and  crossing  that  diagonally,  turning  a little  to  the 
right,  I stood  in  front  of  a square  brick  cottage, 
one  story  in  height,  and  painted  red.  A wide  ve- 
randa, ample  for  a half  dozen  persons  to  sit  and 
chat  at  eventide,  shaded  its  two  front  doors.  This 
spot  afforded  a view  of  the  magnificent  sunsets,  and 
from  all  I have  learned  was  the  favorite  resort  of 
the  few  American  residents  of  Los  Angeles  in  that 
early  day. 

The  house  was  built  for  Captain  Hancock  about 
the  year  1859,  by  the  present  mayor  of  the  city, 
Mr.  E.  C.  Thom,  himself  a devoted  personal  friend 
of  the  Hancocks.  The  dwelling  is  a duplicate  of 
the  one  in  which  Mr.  Thom  then  resided,  and  which 
now  stands  on  the  adjoining  lot,  to  the  left  of  the 
cottage,  the  mayor’s  present  stately  home  being  on 
the  right  of  it,  with  a narrow  street  intervening. 
In  the  yard  surrounding  the  cottage,  their  trunks 
half  buried  in  a mound  of  loose  earth,  stand  several 
orange  trees,  now  destitute  of  fruit.  Originally  this 
yard,  set  with  flowers,  vines,  fruit,  and  ornamental 
trees,  formed  a scene  of  beauty  which  both  families 
enjoyed.  Mrs.  Hancock  is  said  to  have  been  pas- 
sionately fond  of  flowers. 

Hearing  the  sounds  of  workmen  inside,  and  both 


88 


CALIFORNIA . 


front  doors  standing  wide  open,  I walked  in,  and 
in  one  of  the  back  rooms  found  a young  man,  who, 
upon  learning  my  errand,  very  courteously  acted 
the  part  of  host  to  the  empty  house  and  furnished 
me  the  information  I sought.  The  plan  of  the 
dwelling  is  very  peculiar,  and  suggests  that  it  was 
devised  for  both  the  pleasure  and  the  convenient 
entertainment  of  guests,  and  back  of  that,  that  the 
builder  himself  was  a man  hospitably  inclined.  The 
main  part  is  done  off  into  four  square  rooms,  each 
opening  into  two  others,  around  a square  post  in  the 
center.  Both  front  rooms  have  a street  entrance, 
three  large  windows,  a fire-place — not  grate — with 
marble  mantel,  and  two  doors  opening  into  the 
succeeding  apartment.  These  rear  rooms  once 
opened  into  additions,  ells,  or  wings,  which  served 
the  purpose  of  kitchen,  laundry,  and  servants* 
quarters,  and  partly  inclosed  the  presidio  between 
them.  These  wings  are  now  removed,  and  in  the 
thick  walls  of  the  main  building  appear  large  aper- 
tures, in  which  are  inserted  heavy  screws,  ready  for 
transferring  the  whole  structure  to  the  rear  of  the 
lot,  where  it  will  serve  as  shops,  the  ground  it  now 
occupies  being  required  for  a new  street  opening 
between  it  and  the  residence  of  the  mayor.  Thus 
will  be  banished  to  partial  obscurity  and  to  business 


A FORMER  HOME  OF  GEN.  HANCOCK.  89 


purposes  a tenement  which  was  once  the  happy 
home  of  Almira  Russell  Hancock,  then,  as  now,  one 
of  the  noblest  and  most  beautiful  of  American 
women. 

In  the  society  of  this  frontier  post  Mrs.  Han- 
cock seems  to  have  shone  conspicuously,  not  for  her 
personal  beauty  only,  but  for  her  rare  charms  of 
mind,  grace  of  manners,  and  kindness  of  heart.  The 
sweetness  of  her  disposition  forms  a subject  of  re- 
mark among  old  acquaintances  here  to-day.  Men 
and  women  alike,  who  knew  her  well  in  the  various 
relations  of  life,  speak  of  her  with  admiration,  ut- 
tering never  a word  of  criticism.  A gentlemen 
prominent  here  in  that  day,  said,  speaking  of  her 
this  morning: 

“I  have  never  known  a woman  like  her.  She 
was  obliging  to  an  extreme.  Accomplished  in 
music,  and  though  herself  an  Episcopalian,  she  long 
played  the  organ  in  our  mingled  Protestant  services, 
with  as  much  zeal  and  interest  as  though  she  were 
a member  of  all  the  churches  represented.” 

Another,  for  thirty  years  a personal  friend  and 
correspondent  of  General  Hancock,  said,  with  the 
feeling  a brother  might  manifest: 

“I  hesitate  to  speak  of  her  as  she  deserves,  for 

I know  her  dislike  of  publicity,  her  aversion  to 

8 


90 


CALIFORNIA . 


display.  But  it  is  true  that  she  seemed  to  possess 
every  trait  that  can  adorn  the  character  of  woman. 
During  her  life  in  Los  Angeles,  she  was,  to  a re- 
markable degree,  cheerful,  hopeful,  thoughtful  of 
the  poor,  pitiful  towards  the  sorrowing,  and  always 
ready  to  do  any  thing  that  would  conduce  to  the 
general  welfare  of  the  community.  She  was  a wise 
mother,  and  reared  her  two  children,  Ada  and  Rus- 
sell Hancock,  with  the  future  of  their  lives  always 
in  view.  She  shone  in  society,  but  more  brightly 
at  home.  Added  to  all  this,  she  was  beautiful  to 
look  at,  and  had  the  most  expressive  eyes  I ever 
saw.” 

“The  years  which  have  intervened,”  he  contin- 
ued, “between  their  departure  from  this  city,  in 
1861,  I think,  when  the  general  was  ordered  to  the 
east,  at  the  outbreak  of  the  Rebellion,  and  their 
recent  visit  here,  while  they  have  greatly  elevated 
her  in  social  position,  appear  only  to  have  mellowed 
the  qualities  we  admired,  not  destroyed  them.” 

“There  were  so  few  of  us,  American  residents, 
in  Los  Angeles  then,”  said  another,  who,  possessing, 
like  Mrs.  Hancock,  an  obliging  and  helpful  spirit, 
had  acted  as  chorister  at  the  much  prized  Protest- 
ant services,  “that  we  used  to  count  heads  every 
Sunday.  Often  there  were  only  thirty  of  us  all  told.” 


A FORMER  HOME  OF  GEN.  HANCOCK.  91 


“The  daughter  was  a lovely  girl,”  said  the  first 
speaker.  “Though  she  was  young  when  they  left 
here,  she  was  very  attractive.  Her  death  occurred 
in  New  York,  some  eight  or  nine  years  since,  I can 
not  tell  just  how  long.  She  was  eighteen  years  of 
age,  had  just  graduated  from  some  school  in  that 
vicinity,  and  was  considered  much  accomplished. 
To  her  parents  it  was  a terrible  bereavement. 

“Russell,  the  son  is  now  a successful  planter  at 
Clarksdale,  Mississippi.  He  must  be  about  thirty 
years  of  age.  He  is  a mechanical  genius,  and  con- 
structs almost  every  kind  of  machinery  which  the 
exigencies  of  his  business  require.  Neither  of  the 
children  were  born  in  Los  Angeles.  Captain  Han- 
cock was  transferred  to  this  post,  then  the  principal 
military  station  of  Southern  California,  from  Fort 
Tejon,  in  Kern  County.” 

The  “recent  visit”  of  General  and  Mrs.  Han- 
cock to  Los  Angeles,  mentioned  by  this  friend, 
occurred  the  first  week  of  January,  1884,  and  was 
a time  for  general  rejoicing  on  the  part  of  those 
who  had  known  and  loved  them  far  back  in  the 
fifties.  A royal  welcome  was  given  them.  There 
was  an  enthusiastic  procession  of  the  citizens  in 
their  honor  on  New  Year’s  Day,  and,  if  I mistake 
not,  a banquet  was  tendered  them  in  the  evening. 


92 


CALIFORNIA. 


When  it  was  known  that  Los  Angeles  would  be 
included  in  General  Hancock’s  western  trip,  the 
mayor  of  the  city  requested  the  work  of  demolish- 
ing their  cottage  to  cease  until  after  their  departure, 
in  order  that  Mrs.  Hancock  might  see  her  early 
home  as  nearly  in  the  state  she  left  it  as  possible. 
After  seeing  it  the  excellent  woman  remarked  that 
she  had  “ spent  the  happiest  hours  of  her  life  in  that 
little  brick  cottage.” 

Mrs.  Anna  Ozier,  the  widow  of  Judge  Isaac  S. 
E.  Ozier,  who  was  judge  of  the  Federal  Court  for 
Southern  California  in  1854,  was  one  of  the  first 
five  American  women  who  settled  in  Los  Angeles 
after  the  accession  of  California,  and  was  an  inti- 
mate friend  of  Mrs.  Hancock.  She  still  resides  in 
this  city,  and  entertained  her  old  friends  when  they 
were  here.  In  a talk  with  her,  after  I had  visited 
the  dismantled  cottage,  she  cited  this  reminiscence 
of  them,  among  many  others.  I give  her  words : 

“One  day  during  a season  of  heavy  rainfall, 
like  that  we  have  had  this  Winter,  the  entire  north 
wall  of  the  captain’s  house  fell  out,  flat  upon  the 
ground.  The  soil  of  Los  Angeles  has  a migratory 
disposition,  and  a few  days’  heavy  rain  are  enough 
to  start  it  traveling  in  all  directions.  Besides,  the 
brick  we  got  here,  in  those  days,  were  very  porous, 


A FORMER  HOME  OF  GEM  HANCOCK.  93 


and  they,  too,  filling  with  water,  were  disposed  to 
change  quarters. 

“It  was  no  trifling  occurrence,  but  the  captain 
and  Mrs.  Hancock  took  the  trouble  with  the  great- 
est good  nature.  Happening  to  be  coming  up  the 
street  that  evening  about  tea-time,  I saw  the  family 
sitting  at  table  as  happy  as  if  nothing  were  the 
matter. 

“Did  I know  them  intimately?  Mercy,  yes! 
They  lived  near  us  three  years,  and  there  was  hardly 
an  evening  when  we  were  not  together.  Mrs.  Han- 
cock had  the  pleasantest  disposition  of  any  woman 
I ever  knew,  and  a brother  could  not  have  beeu 
kinder  to  me,  through  all  these  years,  than  has  been 
General  Hancock.” 

“ If  republics  are  ungrateful,  you  are  not,  I see.” 

“No;  and  I shall  never  forgive  this  nation  for 
not  making  General  Hancock  President.” 


XV. 


(sALiIFIOI^NIA’S  Gl^EAJfl  I?ISJI«O^IAN. 


OMETIME  in  the  latter  part  of  March,  1884, 


I received  from  the  wife  of  Mr.  Hubert  H. 


Bancroft,  author  of  the  “ History  of  the  Pacific 
Coast  States,”  a note  stating  that  her  husband,  her- 
self, and  family  would  visit  Los  Angeles  at  an  early 
date  in  April,  and  wThile  there  would  “ be  glad  to 
see  me.”  The  lady  and  her  children  had  wintered, 
I believe,  in  the  Ojai  Valley,  and  now,  with  the  ad- 
vent of  Spring,  wTere  exchanging  that  “most  health- 
ful of  all  valleys  on  the  globe”  for  the  sea  breeze 
at  San  Diego,  two  hundred  and  twenty  miles  farther 
south.  I had  sought  from  Mrs.  Bancroft,  as  she 
was  within  quick  reach,  certain  information  per- 
taining to  her  husband’s  great  work;  hence  her 
kindly  reply. 

Accordingly,  next  day  after  their  arrival  I 
called  at  the  Kimball  Mansion,  situated  on  New 
High  Street,  where  I found  them  comfortably  quar- 
tered, with  their  family  of  four  children,  all  under 
eight  years  of  age.  During  the  informal  interview 


94 


CALIFORNIA'S  GREAT  HISTORIAN 


95 


I had  opportunity  to  note  how  delightful  is  the 
home  atmosphere  which  surrounds  Mr.  Bancroft, 
and  also  to  learn  many  interesting  facts  connected 
with  his  early  life,  and  with  the  founding  of  his 
unique  historical  library  in  San  Francisco.  Most 
persons  take  pleasure  in  reading  sketches  of  the  life 
and  labors  of  such  men  as  Mr.  Bancroft.  I there- 
fore present  a hastily  drawn  picture  of  the  great 
historian  and  his  family  before  speaking  of  his  un- 
exampled literary  undertaking. 

Mrs.  Bancroft  is  an  attractive  and  cultured 
woman,  whose  married  life  covers  nine  years. 
She  is  very  youthful  in  appearance,  has  a slight 
figure,  blue  eyes,  light  hair,  and  a fair  complexion. 
Her  manner  is  extremely  cordial,  making  one  for- 
get that  she  was  the  acquaintance  of  but  an  hour, 
instead  of  a life-time.  She  is  pleased  with  her 
husband’s  growing  reputation  as  an  author,  has  a 
keen  appreciation  of  the  importance  of  his  work, 
and  so  far  as  she  has  the  power,  compels  affairs  to 
bend  to  its  accomplishment. 

The  two  eldest  children  are  magnificent  speci- 
mens of  boyhood;  strong,  athletic  little  fellows, 
with  massive  heads  on  their  shoulders,  and  within 
their  breasts  a mighty  purpose  to  get  out  of  every 
hour  of  time  the  utmost  of  boy  enjoyment.  And 


96 


CALIFORNIA . 


if  I judged  correctly,  their  parents  mean  this  purpose 
shall  be  accomplished,  but  within  limits  which  shall 
not  infringe  upon  the  rights  of  others,  nor  destroy 
the  capacity  of  their  children  to  enjoy  the  higher 
pleasures  of  life  by  and  by.  From  some  things 
which  Mr.  Bancroft  has  written,  I conclude  that  a 
favorite  opinion  of  his,  is,  that  in  the  not  very  dis- 
tant future  the— let  us  say  American — race  will 
have  made  so  great  advancement  in  what  is  termed 
“ sublime  culture,”  as  to  materially  lessen  the  moral 
distance  between  God  and  this  nation.  And,  very  pos- 
sibly, the  man’s  hope  is, that  his  sons  may  live  and  be 
fitted  to  take  part  in  the  affairs  of  that  auspicious 
time.  Just  where  fifty  years  more  of  material  and 
national  development,  like  that  of  the  past  half  cen- 
tury— were  our  rapid  progress  in  countless  enormous 
iniquities  to  suddenly  cease — would  bring  us,  even 
the  seer  endowed  with  keenest  vision  could  hardly 
foretell.  Should  it  be  at  dawn  of  an  era  so  blessed, 
any  expectations  of  that  nature  which  the  distin- 
guished historian  may  entertain,  might  possibly  be 
realized.  For,  judging  from  his  mode  of  managing 
his  lively  sons,  he  is  just  the  man  to  train  them 
for  a life  under  such  conditions,  and  thus  do  his 
part  towards  ushering  in  the  glorious  day  he  paints. 

In  the  fair  daughter,  younger  than  her  brothers, 


CALIFORNIA'S  GREAT  HISTORIAN 


97 


scarcely  less  interest  centers.  I saw  her  but  a few 
moments,  but  they  were  enough  to  convince  me 
that,  while  her  brothers  are  small  bundles  of  con- 
densed action,  she  is  a little  package  of  tranquillity, 
just  the  article  needed  in  the  other  end  of  the  bal- 
ance. The  fourth  child  is  a son,  about  three  years 
old  at  the  present  date. 

Hubert  How  Bancroft  is  a native  of  Ohio,  and 
adds  another  name  to  her  list  of  eminent  men. 
Next  to  California,  that  State  should  feel  honored 
in  him,  and  take  interest  in  his  great  work.  He 
was  born  in  Granville,  May  5,  1832,  and  is  now 
fifty-five  years  of  age.  Mr.  Bancroft  is  a person  of 
medium  height,  rather  heavy  set,  broad  chested, 
with  square  shoulders,  which  incline  forward 
slightly,  the  result,  no  doubt,  of  years  of  work 
with  the  pen.  He  has  a large  head,  thick,  iron- 
gray  hair,  dark  eyes,  and  a Southern  complexion. 
His  manner  is  frank  and  kindly.  He  impresses  a 
stranger  as  a man  of  honest  purpose,  and  great 
decision  of  character.  The  sum  of  his  school  edu- 
cation was  obtained  in  the  district  schools  of  Ohio 
before  he  was  sixteen  years  of  age. 

At  that  period  Mr.  Bancroft  left  home,  going  to 
Buffalo,  where  he  was  employed  in  a book-store 

owned  by  his  brother-in-law,  Mr.  George  H.  Derby, 

9 


98 


CALIFORNIA . 


Here,  for  some  reason,  he  failed  of  the  advantage 
he  anticipated,  and  closed  his  engagement  at  the 
end  of  a year.  A portion  of  his  journey  to  Buffalo 
was  made  on  the  Ohio  Canal.  Being  rich,  not  in 
this  world’s  goods,  but  in  having  an  uncle  who  was 
the  captain  of  a boat  on  that  ancient  water-way,  he 
proposed  to  ride  one  of  the  horses  attached  thereto 
to  the  city  of  Cleveland,  in  payment  for  his  fare. 
His  uncle  accepted  the  offer,  and  the  future  histo- 
rian rode  into  the  beautiful  Forest  City  in  the  ca- 
pacity of  a canal-boy.  Mr.  Bancroft  mentioned  this 
circumstance  as  an  amusing  experience  of  his  youth, 
rather  than  otherwise.  I wondered  at  the  moment 
if,  in  relating  it,  he  thought  at  all  of  the  second 
martyr  President,  the  beginning  of  whose  path  to 
eminence  also  ran  along  the  brink  of  that  canal. 

Leaving  Buffalo  Mr.  Bancroft  laid  his  course 
for  the  Pacific  Coast,  via  Cape  Horn,  being  intrusted 
by  Mr.  Derby  with  an  invoice  of  books  and  sta- 
tionery with  which  to  open  the  book-trade  in  the 
city  of  San  Francisco.  Months  were  consumed  in 
making  the  passage,  and  before  he  reached  the 
Golden  Gate  Mr.  Derby  had  died;  and  upon  his 
landing  an  order  met  him  to  re-ship  the  goods  to 
Buffalo.  He,  however,  made  a fortunate  sale  of 
them  instead,  and  remitted  the  proceeds  to  Mrs. 


CALIFORNIA’S  GREAT  HISTORIAN. 


99 


Derby,  thereby  much  improving  her  financial  con- 
dition. 

As  early  as  1856  Mr.  Bancroft  had  not  only  be- 
come known  on  the  coast  for  his  habits  of  industry 
and  economy,  but  had  accumulated  means  to  found 
a book-store  of  his  own  in  San  Francisco.  Twenty- 
five  years  later  the  establishment  was  one  of  the 
first  of  its  kind  in  the  world.  About  this  time  his 
grand  history  project  began  to  take  serious  shape 
in  his  mind.  Repeatedly  during  his  residence  on 
the  coast,  had  his  attention  been  drawn  to  the  fact 
that  important  material  for  a true  history  of  Cali- 
fornia was  daily  losing  beyond  recovery.  He  re- 
solved to  take  steps  to  preserve  it.  Immediately  he 
began  to  collect  books,  pamphlets,  letters,  and  docu- 
ments, pertaining  thereto.  By  degrees  the  field  of 
these  labors  widened,  until  it  embraced  the  entire 
western  half  of  the  continent,  from  the  Rocky 
Mountains  to  the  great  ocean;  from  Alaska  to  Pan- 
ama, including  Central  America  and  Mexico. 

In  pursuance  of  his  purpose  now,  he  not  only 
visited  the  eastern  part  of  the  Continent,  but  made 
several  journeys  to  Europe,  each  trip  adding  price- 
less material  to  his  collection.  During  1868,  with 
twelve  thousand  volumes  of  these  treasures  on  hand, 
gathered  at  an  immense  cost,  he  conceived  the  idea 


100 


CALIFORNIA. 


of  giving  them  to  the  world  in  the  form  of  one 
continuous,  carefully  written  history.  But  the  ques- 
tion was:  Could  he  accomplish  such  a feat?  The 

task  involved  an  unflinching  purpose,  years  of  unre- 
mitting toil,  the  outlay  of  a fortune,  and  the  pos- 
session of  fine  literary  ability.  Did  he  possess  that? 
was  another  question.  Undismayed  by  this  dread 
presentation  of  the  case,  he  determined  to  under- 
take the  prodigious  work. 

Accordingly,  releasing  himself  from  the  burden 
of  business  in  his  book-store,  he  installed  his 
brother,  Mr.  A.  L.  Bancroft,  manager-in  chief  of 
the  establishment;  and,  engaging  a score  of  assist- 
ants, began  arranging  his  material  in  the  fourth 
story  of  their  building.  His  first  step  was  to  care- 
fully index  the  vast  collection,  just  as  an  author 
would  index  the  subjects  in  his  book.  Thus  his  task 
was  at  once  greatly  facilitated.  This  work  occupied 
an  average  of  six  persons  ten  years,  and  cost  up- 
wards of  eighty  thousand  dollars. 

Meanwhile  another  set  of  scribes,  taking  these 
indexes,  abstracted  from  them  the  information  de- 
sired in  reference  to  any  given  part  of  the  Terri- 
tory. This  was  known  as  the  “ rough  material.” 
Next,  a third  class  of  writers,  better  qualified,  elab- 
orated this  matter  into  proper  historical  form,  and 


CALIFORNIA'S  GREAT  HISTORIAN.  101 


submitted  the  result  to  Mr.  Bancroft,  who  carefully 
revised  the  work,  rewriting  such  portions  as  he 
chose.  Sometimes,  however,  beginning  back  with 
the  indexes,  he  himself  wrote  out  important  por- 
tions entirely. 

During  all  this  time  the  collection  of  books, 
letters,  newspapers,  maps  of  the  coast,  and  of  the 
country,  and  annals  in  manuscript,  went  on,  until 
over  thirty  thousand  volumes  were  accumulated,  the 
whole  constituting  a library  unapproachable  as  to 
value  in  this  country,  particularly  to  writers  on 
special  historical  themes,  and  it  related  to  an  area 
equal  to  one-twelfth  of  the  earth’s  surface. 

In  addition  to  this,  his  deputies  had  long  been 
busy,  all  over  this  territory,  taking  notes  from  aged 
pioneers,  military  men,  statesmen,  and  surviving 
members  of  old  Spanish  families,  all  of  whom,  with 
the  antecedent  Indian  tribes,  had  helped  make  its 
history.  The  result  of  this  movement  was  thou- 
sands of  manuscripts  filled  with  the  deeds  or  remi- 
niscences of  as  many  living  people,  all  of  it  abso- 
sutely  original,  and  nowhere  else  existing. 

At  the  same  time  another  force  was  busy  copying 
papers  in  county,  state,  and  national  archives.  Nor 
was  this  all.  Interested  persons  all  over  the  land 
contributed  piles  of  original  documents,  swelling 


102 


CALIFORNIA . 


the  mass  to  vast  proportions.  Finally  this  material 
was  bound  in  many  folio  volumes,  inestimable  in 
value  as  sources  of  reference. 

Twenty-five  years  in  all  had  now  been  devoted 
to  this  work  of  aggregation.  But  in  an  hour  fire 
might  reduce  the  treasure  to  ashes.  To  save  it 
from  such  a fate,  Mr.  Bancroft  determined  to  place 
over  it  a shelter  absolutely  fire-proof.  The  time 
had  been  brought  down  to  1881.  Accordingly, 
during  that  year  he  erected,  far  out  on  Valencia 
Street  in  San  Francisco,  a large,  two-story,  fire- 
proof repository,  and  therein,  in  orderly  arrange- 
ment, set  up  his  possessions.  This  building  with 
its  contents  forms  the  famous  Bancroft  Library, 
report  of  which  has  gone  so  far  abroad. 

All  this  was  the  munificent  preparation  for  what 
the  papers  have  termed  Mr.  Bancroft’s  “ stupendous 
undertaking,”  namely,  the  writing  the  “ History  of 
the  Pacific  Coast  States  of  North  America.”  But 
introductory  to  this,  and  according  to  a plan  which 
shows  Mr.  Bancroft’s  correct  judgment,  as  regards 
the  order  in  which  the  different  epochs  of  American 
history  should  be  presented,  was  to  be  published,  a 
“ History  of  the  Native  Races  of  the  Pacific  Coast 
States,”  in  five  volumes.  One  of  these  was  to  deal 
with  the  wild  tribes  of  the  entire  region,  and 


CALIFORNIA'S  GREAT  HISTORIAN 


103 


another  with  the  “ Civilized  Nations  of  Mexico  and 
Central  America.”  These  five  volumes  are  already 
issued.  After  them  comes  the  history  proper,  cov- 
ering the  extent  of  country  I have  designated,  and 
embraced  in  thirty  volumes. 

Closely  related  to  the  history,  but  more  effective, 
published  apart  from  it,  come  four  volumes,  entitled, 
first,  “ California  Pastoral,”  being  an  account  of 
life  and  times  under  the  early  Catholic  missionaries; 
second,  “ California  Inter  Pocula,”  or  life  during 
the  gold  mining  period;  and  third,  “ Popular  Tri- 
bunals,” or  the  acts  of  California  Vigilance  Com- 
mittees. Thus  the  complete  great  work  includes 
thirty-nine  volumes,  and  is  a vast  repository,  packed 
from  cover  to  cover  with  facts  pertaining  to  the 
habits,  customs,  sorrows,  pleasures,  religions,  and 
achievements  of  the  races  which  have  successively 
held  sway  on  the  Pacific  Coast.  Mr.  Bancroft 
experts  the  year  1890  to  witness  the  completion  of 
his  task^  should  he  live  to  urge  forward  its  compo- 
sition and  publication. 

Mr.  Bancroft’s  work  will  live  after  him.  As 
well  might  we  relegate  to  the  periods  which  pro- 
duced them  the  histories  of  Rollin,  D’Aubigne, 
Macaulay,  and  Prescott,  as  to  confine  this  gigantic 
record  of  past  deeds  and  events  to  the  present. 


104 


CALIFORNIA . 


No,  we  must  accord  it  life  for  all  time.  There  will 
be,  however,  this  difference  in  its  usefulness.  The 
above  authors  are  read  by  thousands  upon  thousands 
of  the  common  people,  because  in  scope,  and  time, 
and  subject  they  are  limited  to  narrow  bounds,  and 
cost  but  a trifle.  But  from  its  very  size  and  expense 
the  “ History  of  the  Pacific  States  of  North  Amer- 
ica” will  find  entrance  only  into  public  libraries  and 
the  book-cases  of  the  rich. 

Notwithstanding,  there  is  in  the  work  much  of 
interest  for  readers  old  and  young.  What  boy  or 
girl  in  all  the  Union  would  not  sit  entranced  over 
the  volume  on  the  wild  tribes  of  the  coast?  In 
some  parts  its  style  is  plain  even  to  homeliness,  but 
it  is  suited  to  the  subject,  and  allows  the  interest  to 
flag  not  for  a moment.  In  other  portions  the  story 
runs  on  in  clear,  ringing,  picturesque  sentences. 
Savage  men  and  women  stand  before  the  reader, 
creatures  of  a wonderfully  distinct  photography. 
One  lives  among  them ; sees  with  his  own  eyes  their 
homes,  children,  old  people;  goes  with  them  to 
weddings,  funerals,  and  wars;  is  interested,  amused, 
or  shocked,  according  to  the  circumstances.  Take, 
for  instance,  the  description  of  the  temescal , or  sweat- 
house,  an  institution  common  to  many  of  the  tribes. 
Virtually  one  enters  the  strange  place,  feels  the 


CALIFORNIA'S  GREAT  HISTORIAN 


105 


effects  of  the  heat  and  steam,  enjoys  the  final  drowsi- 
ness and  comfort,  and  upon  emerging  from  the  pit 
wonders  not  at  all  that  the  vagabonds  of  the  tribes 
are  often  the  victims  of  some  pain  or  disease  which 
can  be  driven  out  of  them  only  by  a thorough 
steaming  and  a long,  sound  sleep;  nor  that  in  the 
Winter  these  ills  are  most  frequent. 

The  second  volume,  treating  of  the  civilized 
races  of  Mexico  and  Central  America,  is  a narrative 
of  marvelous  life  and  doings.  Its  pages  are  equally 
captivating  for  the  cultured  or  untutored  reader. 
There  Spain  found  and  destroyed  “a  civilization  in 
some  respects  greater  than  her  own.”  There  she 
caused  rivers  of  innocent  human  blood  to  flow,  in 
the  name  of  religion  and  for  love  of  gold.  In  these 
two  volumes  are  depicted  every  phase  of  human 
nature,  from  the  reptile-eating  cave-dwellers  to  the 
enlightened  Maya-Quicha  people  of  the  southern 
table-lands.  To  the  last  line  their  history  is  a tale 
which  holds  spell-bound  the  one  who  believes  that 
“ every  thing  connected  with  man  deserves  man’s 
most  careful  study.” 

Mr.  Bancroft’s  account  of  the  Spanish  conquest 
of  Peru  is  the  most  clear  and  succinct  I have  ever 
read.  One  finishes  the  chapters  with  a well-defined 
idea  of  the  cause  and  the  manner  of  the  Incarial 


106 


CALIFORNIA . 


overthrow.  Sketched  to  the  life  are  the  mercenary 
men  who  conceived  and  accomplished  it.  Their 
motives,  their  insatiable  greed,  their  disregard  of 
human  life,  are  brought  out  into  noonday  light. 
A mere  handful  of  starved,  insubordinate,  and  des- 
perate adventurers,  they  conquer,  when  at  the  zenith 
of  its  glory,  an  empire,  opulent  and  teeming  with 
people,  and  so  re-enact  the  role  of  Hernando  Cortez 
in  the  subjugation  of  Mexico. 

For  specialists  in  the  many  fields  of  literature, 
this  unequaled  history  will  prove  a mine  of  wealth 
for  all  the  future  of  America.  Scarcely  a question 
can  arise,  touching  the  race,  but  here  may  find 
something  to  the  point. 


XVI. 

flN  III  05ind  ©hat  Blew  Good. 


HE  six  weeks  rain-fall  which  drenched  the  soil 


of  Southern  California  during  February  and 
March  of  this  year,  1884,  will  long  be  remembered 
for  the  freshets  it  produced,  the  lives  it  cost,  and 
the  property  it  destroyed.  On  several  of  the  streams 
between  this  city  and  the  desert,  the  bridges  of  the 
Southern  Pacific  road  were  either  swept  away  or 
rendered  unsafe,  detaining  passengers  and  mails  for 
days  in  succession,  at  points  where  supplies  were 
difficult  to  obtain.  Buildings  and  stock  were  caught 
up  by  the  resistless  currents,  wrecking  the  former 
and  drowning  the  latter.  Acres  of  land  were  spir- 
ited away  to  the  ocean.  Many  kinds  of  business 
were  seriously  checked.  Invoices  of  Spring  goods 
dallied  on  the  desert.  Nearly  every  body  looked 
doleful  and  felt  apprehensive.  The  local  weather 
prophets  enhanced  the  trouble  by  foretelling  still 
heavier  floods  before  affairs  should  mend.  Invalids, 
scattered  in  all  directions,  confined  indoors  most  of 
the  time,  sighed  for  the  latitudes  where  frost  im- 
prisons the  streams  and  adorns  the  window-panes. 


107 


108 


CALIFORNIA . 


But  after  awhile  the  wind  which  had  so  long 
blown  ill  changed  its  course,  and  as  generously  blew 
good.  The  earth,  hard  as  stone,  and  almost  impos- 
sible to  cultivate  when  dry,  had  been  wet  down  to 
an  unusual  depth,  and  could  now  be  worked  to 
advantage.  This  gave  a fresh  impetus  to  tree- 
planting all  over  the  broad  plain  stretching  between 
the  Sierra  Mad  re  and  the  sea,  south  and  east  of  the 
city.  The  citizens  of  Santa  Ana,  Orange,  Tustin, 
Westminster,  and  other  thriving  villages  dotting 
this  plain,  awoke  to  the  value  of  the  opportunity, 
and  early  in  April  were  setting  trees.  Meeting 
a tourist  from  that  section  of  the  country  this 
morning,  I inquired  what  varieties  of  trees  were 
planted  in  largest  numbers. 

“The  orange,  lemon,  lime,  olive,  apricot,  pear, 
and  others,  for  fruit;  the  pepper  and  eucalyptus,  for 
shade  and  ornament,”  he  replied.  “The  nursery- 
men,” he  continued,  “are  paying  the  owners  of 
teams  ten  dollars  per  day  for  drawing  trees  to  pur- 
chasers. On  my  way  up  to  the  city  I rode  some 
distance  with  one  of  these  teamsters,  who  had  on 
his  wagon  ten  thousand  apricot,  pear,  and  olive  trees 
for  horticulturists  at  some  point.  He  said  he  dis- 
tributed nearly  that  number  daily.  And  how  they 
take  hold  and  grow!  Hardly  is  the  ground  well 


AN  ILL  WIND  THAT  BLEW  GOOD. 


109 


packed  around  the  roots  ere  they  show  themselves 
at  home  in  the  new  situation.” 

In  one’s  rambles  on  this  plain,  one  hears  not  a 
little  about  the  change  of  climate  likely  to  result 
from  this  lavish  extension  of  orchards,  groves,  and 
vineyards.  There  are  those  who  think  the  move- 
ment will,  in  time,  materially  shorten  the  long  sum- 
mer drought  of  past  days  by  bringing  down  showers 
of  rain.  Every  tree,  it  is  contended,  set  in  the 
valleys  or  on  the  hill-sides  becomes  a leafy  reservoir 
for  the  storage  of  water.  Not  only  so,  it  performs 
a double  duty  in  the  case.  The  roots  retain  the 
water  which  otherwise  would  flow  away,  especially 
in  sloping  situations;  while  the  top,  a manifold 
canopy  sheltering  the  ground,  prevents  its  evapora- 
tion from  about  the  roots.  At  the  same  time  the 
leaves,  from  their  million  mouths,  pour  into  the  air, 
of  a sunny  day,  an  invisible  cloud  of  moisture. 
With  millions  of  trees  united  in  the  beautiful  work, 
the  atmosphere  will  be  charged  with  vapor,  which, 
condensing  in  the  night,  or  by  coming  in  contact 
with  a body  of  cooler  air,  will  descend  in  showers, 
blessing  the  earth. 

Possibly  the  thousands  of  acres  of  trees  already 
well-grown  on  this  vast  prairie,  where  once  scarce 
a tree  was  to  be  seen,  may  account  for  the  several 


110 


CALIFORNIA. 


copious  showers  which  fell  in  the  Summer  of  that 
year.  But  whether  tree-planting  shall  or  shall  not 
greatly  atfect  the  climate  in  Los  Angeles  and  San 
Diego  counties,  the  work  is  certain  to  produce  busi- 
ness, fill  the  local  markets  with  luscious  fruits,  and 
render  very  picturesque  the  country.  Therefore 
may  the  desirable  industry  flourish. 

If  the  reader  will  glance  at  a well-executed  map 
of  these  counties,  he  will  find  a branch  of  the 
Southern  Pacific  Railway  extending  from  Los  An- 
geles south-eastwardly  to  the  bright  little  village  of 
Santa  Ana,  at  present  the  terminus  of  the  road. 
The  distance  is  forty-two  miles.  The  route  lies 
through  the  rich  plain  of  which  we  have  been 
speaking,  and  which  was  once  a part  of  the  cele- 
brated San  Joaquin  rancho.  It  is  one  of  the  most 
productive  portions  of  semi-tropic  California.  Be- 
sides the  towns  I have  already  mentioned,  those  of 
Downey,  Norwalk,  and  Anaheim,  with  their  exten- 
sive orchards  and  vineyards,  grace  leagues  of  coun- 
try along  the  way.  From  the  window  of  my  room 
on  this  hill-top  I can  trace  the  location  of  some  of 
these  places,  as  I look  down  the  Los  Angeles  Val- 
ley toward  the  sea.  Since  this  is  a bright  morning, 
suppose  we  step  aboard  the  cars,  take  a run  through 
the  fine  district,  and  spend  the  night  at  Santa  Ana. 


DOWNEY. 


Ill 


As  we  speed  along  you  notice  that  all  manner 
of  fruits  are  cultivated — oranges,  lemons,  olives, 
apricots,  apples,  grapes,  figs,  bananas,  English  wal- 
nuts, and  many  others. 

DOWNEY. 

At  Downey,  named  for  a recent  governor  of 
California,  and  twelve  miles  out,  we  come  to  a 
community  of  several  hundred  inhabitants.  The 
place  is  noted  for  the  cultivation  of  figs  and  grapes. 
At  an  exhibit  of  county  fruits,  held  in  Los  Angeles 
in  October,  my  attention  was  drawn  to  a magnificent 
display  of  Malaga  grapes  from  here.  The  weight 
of  nearly  every  cluster  approximated  to  four  pounds. 
Beside  these,  its  roots  firmly  imbedded  in  a tub 
of  sand,  was  stationed  a vigorous  Malaga  vine, 
weighed  down  with  enormous  bunches.  How  the 
slender  branches  cotild  sustain  such  a burden  through 
the  season  of  growth  was  a wonder.  Close  at  hand 
lay  small  heaps  of  nine  other  varieties,  very  tempt- 
ing to  sight  and  taste,  among  them  the  Muscat,  Sul- 
tana, Sweetwater,  and  Flaming  Tokay. 

But  of  greater  interest  to  me  than  these  was  au 
array  of  large,  rich  figs,  fresh  from  the  trees,  four 
varieties,  the  White  Smyrna,  Brown  Turkish,  Plym- 
outh Rock — chickens,  by  no  means — and  the  New 


112 


CALIFORNIA . 


Pacific,  a fig  remarkable  for  its  fine  flavor  and  quick- 
drying quality.  The  White  Smyrna  having  been 
longest  known  has  the  widest  reputation  and  readiest 
market.  The  New  Pacific  seriously  threatens  to  su- 
persede it,  however.  Fresh,  ripe  figs  bear  lengthy 
transportation  no  better  than  do  ripe  peaches ; and 
picked  before  they  are  fully  ripe,  are  not  a particle 
more  savory  than  are  green  tomatoes. 

Under  a California  sun,  not  too  hot,  figs  dry  in 
from  three  to  four  days.  For  domestic  use,  house- 
keepers often  cure  them  in  the  oven  of  the  cooking- 
stove  or  range.  Care  must  always  be  taken,  of 
course,  to  preserve  the  proper  temperature,  or  they 
will  sour.  The  fig  produces  the  second  year  from 
planting,  and  bears  at  the  same  time  both  green 
and  ripe  fruit.  Set  in  damp  situations  the  tree 
thrives  like  the  willow;  in  dry  positions  it  requires 
irrigation.  There  are  orchards  numbering  twenty- 
five  hundred  trees,  in  full  bearing,  at  Downey. 
Fresh  figs  are  very  cheap  in  Los  Angeles,  but  the 
dried  fruit  retails  at  twenty-five  cents  the  pound. 
Countless  private  gardens  in  Southern  California 
contain  one  or  more  fig  trees  of  a good  variety. 

Before  continuing  our  journey  I wish  to  call 
attention  to  a gentleman  who  makes  a specialty  of 
raising  bananas  on  the  foot-hills,  some  three  miles 


DOWNEY . 


113 


or  so  from  Los  Angeles.  This  is  Mr.  J.  W.  Potts, 
to  whom  the  city  newspapers,  during  the  great  flood 
of  last  Winter,  gave  the  euphonious  sobriquet  of 
“Prophet  Potts.”  In  size  and  general  appearance 
Mr.  Potts  closely  resembles  the  picture  of  old  Father 
Time  in  the  ancient  Webster  spelling-book.  He 
has  a short,  slight  figure,  iron-gray  hair,  a small 
face,  a sharp  chin,  and  an  exceedingly  attenuated 
voice.  He  speaks  rapidly  and  nervously.  His 
manner  partakes  of  the  searching  investigative 
kind.  Equipped  with  hour-glass  and  scythe  he 
would  readily  be  mistaken  for  the  original  of  the 
spelling-book  illustration. 

Mr.  Potts  came  to  Los  Angeles  trom  somewhere 
in  the  East,  in  the  ever-memorable  year  of  1849, 
an  enthusiast,  not  in  gold-hunting,  but  in  fruit- 
culture,  as  he  himselt  told  me.  Having  long  been 
a close  observer  of  the  laws  which  operate  in  the 
domain  of  the  atmosphere,  he  some  time  before  it 
occurred,  predicted  the  very  unusual  rain-fall  of  last 
Winter,  adding  that  it  would  be  attended  with  dis- 
aster and  heavy  loss.  The  fulfillment  of  the  pre- 
diction secured  him  his  title. 

For  four  years  past  Mr.  Potts  has  paid  consider- 
able attention  to  raising  bananas  on  his  farm  among 

the  foot-hills.  He  asserts  that  of  his  three  hundred 

10 


114 


CALIFORNIA. 


and  fifty  trees,  from  twelve  to  fourteen  feet  in 
height,  not  one  has  ever  been  touched  by  frost. 
During  the  year  1883  these  trees  were  laden  with 
the  delicious  fruit  at  every  stage  of  growth,  and  re- 
quiring some  nine  months  for  its  perfection.  Some 
of  this  fruit  hung  on  the  trees  unharmed  during  the 
Winter  of  1883-84,  one  of  the  most  trying,  for  cold, 
ever  known  here.  This  is  regarded  as  conclusive 
evidence  of  the  safety  of  tender  fruits  growing  on 
elevated  situations  near  Los  Angeles.  Mr.  Potts 
irrigates  a portion  of  his  trees  once  during  the 
season,  and  others  not  at  all.  Their  position  decides 
the  question,  I suppose.  This  gentleman  says  he 
wras  present,  over  thirty  years  ago,  when  Mr.  William 
Wolfskill  planted  his  famous  orange  orchard,  a spot 
which  few  visitors  to  Los  Angeles  fail  to  see,  and 
avers  that  not  once  since  then  has  there  been  frost 
sufficient  in  Southern  California  to  injure  large 
orange  trees. 

ANAHEIM. 

Two  things  give  Anaheim,  our  next  point  on 
the  road,  prominence  in  the  country  and  the  news- 
papers. These  are  its  wineries  and  ostrich  farm. 
The  rearing  of  ostriches  being  a rare  undertaking 
in  America,  these  birds  excite  much  curiosity  on 
the  part  of  visitors  to  the  Pacific  Coast.  The 


ANAHEIM. 


115 


ostriches  are  farmed  about  seven  miles  from  the 
village,  and  at  present  number  forty  or  more.  I 
have  not  seen  them,  but  have  been  told  that  about 
half  of  them  are  full  grown,  and  measure,  from  the 
ground  to  the  top  of  the  back,  from  eight  to  nine 
feet.  The  ostrich  is  a timid  fowl,  but  the  males 
when  irritated  are  disposed  to  be  violent,  towards 
their  mates,  and  towards  men  and  animals.  It  is 
reported  that  even  their  former  careful  and  humane 
superintendent,  Dr.  Sketchley,  occasionally  became 
the  object  of  their  wrath  at  Anaheim  ; and,  also,  that 
one  of  the  birds,  a Hercules  for  strength,  becoming 
enraged  at  his  mate  not  long  ago,  raised  one  of  his 
powerful  legs  and  dealt  her  a terrific  blow,  when 
quickly  she  was  no  more.  I will  not  vouch  for  the 
truth  of  these  statements.  Undoubtedly  the  African 
bird  holds,  as  many  men  do,  that  he  has  a right  to 
strike  his  wife.  Dr.  Sketchley,  no  longer  at 
Anaheim,  but  now  actively  engaged  in  founding  a 
zoological  garden,  on  a scale  of  munificence  in 
keeping  with  every  thing  Californian,  a few  miles 
north-west  of  Los  Angeles,  among  the  foot-hills  of 
the  San  Fernando  Mountains,  can  answer  for  him- 
self as  to  the  treatment  he  received  from  his  Ana- 
heim wards.  Here  also  he  is  planting  a colony  of 
these  birds  of  elegant  plumage. 


116 


CALIFORNIA . 


Like  the  eucalyptus  and  the  pepper  tree,  the  os- 
trich loses  its  attractiveness  as  age  creeps  on.  Hence 
the  juvenile  members  of  the  Anaheim  family  are  most 
in  favor  with  visitors.  Some  of  them  are  now 
about  the  size  of  full-grown  turkeys,  and  are  pro- 
spectively very  valuable  on  account  of  their  feathers. 
The  first  plucking  takes  place  when  the  bird  is 
about  a year  and  a half  old. 

The  eyes  of  the  ostrich  are  large  and  very  keen, 
enabling  them  to  discern  objects  at  a great  distance. 
Their  hearing  also  is  remarkably  acute.  I have 
been  told  that  the  sight  of  a horse  inspires  them 
with  great  terror,  and  that  a gentleman  recently 
rode  one  of  these  animals  within  view  from  their 
inclosure  at  Anaheim,  when  the  birds,  catching 
sight  of  him,  were  thrown  into  such  fright  that  the 
rider  was  forced  to  remove  him.  Their  cry  is  loud 
and  piercing,  and  may  be  heard  at  a great  distance. 
“ When  contending  with  a foe  they  hiss  vigorously, 
thus  publishing  their  relationship  to  the  goose.” 

The  feathers  of  the  ostrich  are  taken  chiefly 
from  the  tail  and  wings.  Those  of  the  males  are 
either  white  or  brown,  tipped  with  black,  and  are 
remarkable  for  their  length.  It  is  for  these  long 
plumes  mainly  that  the  ostrich  is  farmed.  The 
feathers  of  the  female  are  dark  brown,  mingled 


ANAHEIM. 


117 


with  white.  For  centuries  past  the  handsome 
plumes  of  the  African  ostrich  have  been  worn  by 
men  as  insignia  of  their  rank.  The  badge  of  the 
present  Prince  of  Wales  is  three  white  ostrich 
feathers.  When  John,  of  Luxembourg,  was  de- 
feated at  Crecy,  by  Edward  the  Black  Prince,  he 
wore  in  his  casque  one  of  their  long,  white  plumes. 
And,  even  prior  to  that  date,  they  distinguished  the 
house  of  Plantaganet.  The  wearing  of  three  feath- 
ers, grouped,  in  the  coronet  of  an  English  prince 
is  said  to  have  been  introduced  by  Henry,  eldest 
son  of  James  the  First.  Certain  young  women  of 
America  must  have  adopted  the  fashion,  for,  seated 
in  front  of  me  at  church  last  Sunday  morning,  was 
a young  lady  with  three  white  plumes  set  against 
the  front  of  her  hat,  its  only  trimming. 

Anaheim  is  one  of  the  oldest  of  recent  settle- 
ments in  Southern  California,  having  been  estab- 
lished nearly  twenty-five  years  ago.  It  was  settled 
by  a colony  of  Germans,  who  planted  extensively 
the  “wine  grape,”  introduced  by  the  Spanish  mis- 
sionaries. In  a few  years  they  were  freely  engaged 
in  the  manufacture  of  wine.  They  made  money  at 
the  baleful  business,  and  laid  it  up,  as  is  so  natural 
for  the  frugal  Teuton  to  do,  instead  of  expending  it 
in  making  their  surroundings  beautiful.  And,  now, 


118 


CALIFORNIA. 


in  their  plain  and  exteriorly  comfortable  homes, 
they  appear  to  be  taking  their  ease.  A few  of  the 
residences  are  very  pretty.  The  place  has  a drowsy, 
Autnmnish  look.  No  new  buildings  are  going  up. 
There  is  no  activity  in  the  streets.  The  spirit  of 
enterprise  seems  to  have  taken  its  flight,  if  it  were 
ever  here.  Anaheim  is  at  the  midnight  of  a long 
sleep.  When  it  wakens  it  will  find  that  the  enter- 
prising villages  of  Orange,  Tustin,  and  Santa  Ana 
have  far  outstripped  it  in  the  race  for  business  and 
improvement. 

Leaving  here  we  pass  on  to  the  last-named  town, 
one  of  five  charming  villages  occupying  the  valley 
of  the  Santa  Ana  River,  seven  miles  south-east  of 
Anaheim,  two-and-a-half  miles  south  of  Orange, 
with  Tustin  on  the  east,  and  Westminster,  a neat, 
thriving  town,  founded  by  a colony  of  enterprising 
temperance  people,  who  at  the  beginning  forever 
barred  out  the  saloon  by  proviso  in  their  act  of 
incorporation,  lying  due  south  of  it. 

Tustin  and  Orange  are  little  more  than  col- 
lections of  beautiful  homes,  with  a post-office, 
grocery,  hotel,  store,  church,  and  school-house 
located  at  the  center,  while  the  country  adjacent 
presents  a net-work  of  vineyards  and  orchards 
of  all  sorts.  Access  to  these  places  is  by  carriage. 


SANTA  ANA. 


119 


Every  rod  of  the  ride  is  delightful.  Long  lines  of 
eucalypti,  pepper,  and  cypress  trees  grace  the 
road  on  either  side.  The  gates  of  the  pretty 
yards  stand  invitingly  open.  The  hedges  are  trim 
and  green.  Flowers  brighten  the  closely  cut  lawns. 
The  cottages,  of  a dozen  chaste  styles,  look  cool 
and  inviting  on  this  warm  afternoon.  Every  thing 
betokens  prosperity.  Still,  so  recently  were  none 
of  these  things  here,  that  their  existence  seems  like 
the  work  of  magic. 

Santa  Ana,  the  largest  of  the  group,  contains 
about  two  thousand  five  hundred  people.  Eleven 
years  ago  its  now  vine-clad  site  was  a treeless  waste, 
a mere  pasture  for  flocks.  Its  inhabitants  were 
principally  Mexicans,  and  widely  scattered.  But 
its  climate  had  become  known  as  one  in  which  con- 
sumptives were  almost  sure  to  recover.  Word  to 
that  effect  reached  Minnesota  and  other  North- 
western States.  Hither  from  them  came  numbers 
of  that  class  of  invalids.  Few  of  them  could  come 
alone.  So  with  them  came  the  strong  and  well, 
bringing  some  money,  indomitable  energy,  and 
power  to  scheme  and  drive.  Mr.  J.  W.  Layman, 
of  Minneapolis,  one  of  the  first  on  the  ground,  built 
a hotel.  Then  followed  church  and  school-house. 
Soon  up  sprang  lodges  of  Masons,  Odd  Fellows 


120 


CALIFORNIA . 


Good  Templars,  a Band  of  Hope,  and  a Post  of  the 
Grand  Army  of  the  Republic.  All  wide-awake  in 
their  legitimate  fields  of  activity,  and  now  possess- 
ing their  own  inviting  halls  for  meetings.  Trans- 
planting their  love  of  refinement  into  the  new  soil, 
the  citizens  foster  art  in  several  of  its  departments, 
and  pay  liberal  stipends  to  teachers. 

From  the  Santa  Ana  River  and  the  two  strata, 
sheets,  or  lakes  of  water  which  underlie  the  entire 
plain,  one  at  a depth  of  sixty,  the  other  at  a dis- 
tance of  three  hundred  feet,  is  derived  the  water 
supply  for  this  coterie  of  settlements.  For  domestic 
purposes  the  fluid  is  obtained  through  artesian 
wells,  sunk  to  the  second  stratum.  To  sum  up, 
the  three  strong  points  of  the  region  are:  An 

almost  faultless  climate,  a wonderfully  fertile  soil, 
an  inexhaustible  supply  of  pure,  cold  water. 

Eight  miles  south  of  Santa  Ana  lies  Newport 
Bay,  the  most  accessible  sea-side  resort.  In  full 
view  from  it,  and  near  enough  for  an  enjoyable  sail, 
are  the  islands  of  San  Clemente  and  Santa  Catalina, 
notable  for  their  scenic  charms  and  historical  asso- 
ciations. 

Something  like  a mile  below  Santa  Ana,  on 
property  belonging  to  one  Captain  West,  are  to  be 
seen  the  ruins  of  an  old  adobe  house,  which,  you 


SANTA  ANA. 


121 


will  be  told,  was  the  birthplace  of  the  famous 
Mexican  General  and  President,  Santa  Anna.  But 
history  robs  the  place  of  this  honor.  A friend,  fa- 
miliar with  every  page  of  the  man’s  career,  informs 
me  that  the  Mexican  President  never  saw  California. 
Antonio  Lopez  was  a native  of  the  State  of  Jalapa, 
Mexico.  At  one  time  in  his  life  he  was  the  pro- 
prietor of  a handsome  estate  in  that  republic,  which, 
out  of  gratitude  for  the  services  of  Sant  Anne,  he 
named  Santa  Anna.  There  being  other  men  in 
Mexico  of  the  name  of  Lopez,  he  in  time  came  to 
be  designated  as  Lopez  de  Santa  Anna;  and,  later, 
by  the  American  newspapers,  and  also  by  the  Amer- 
ican army  during  the  war  with  Mexico,  as  General, 
then  President  Santa  Anna.  To  this  river  and  val- 
ley the  name  Santa  Ana  was  given  by  the  “ Mis- 
sionary Fathers”  during  their  first  journey  from 
San  Diego  to  Monterey,  and  long  before  the  day 
of  Lopez,  of  Jalapa. 


11 


XVII. 


fl  Singular  (©ha^agtei^. 


AST  Tuesday  afternoon  it  was  arranged  by  the 


lovely  woman  to  whom  belongs  this  hill-top 
home,  that  I should  next  day  accompany  her  on  a 
visit  to  a floral  garden  lying  just  within  the  western 
limits  of  the  city,  and  of  which  one  Peter  Raman, 
a native  of  Hungary,  and  a singular  specimen  of 
the  genus  homo , is  the  proprietor.  The  day  proved 
a delightful  one.  Overhead  nothing  but  blue;  in 
the  sunlight  an  indescribable  charm;  an  attraction 
which  fairly  drew  people  out  of  doors,  and  when 
out,  produced  in  them  a feeling  of  happiness  and 
exultation.  In  no  other  spot  on  this  continent  have 
I experienced  this  exhilarating  effect  of  the  sun- 
light. But  here  ordinarily  are  to  be  enjoyed  months 
of  such  days  every  year — days  when  you  are  very 
pleased,  and  hardly  know  why. 

Taking  a main  street  car  to  the  Washington  Gar- 
dens, two  miles  from  the  center  of  town,  we  were 
within  twenty  minutes  walk  of  the  premises.  Both 
florists  and  their  grounds  are  plentiful  in  this  part 
of  the  country,  and  I write  of  this  man  only  because 


122 


A SINGULAR  CHARACTER. 


123 


he  is  an  odd  pattern  of  humanity,  after  which  few 
mortals  are  fashioned  in  any  land.  These  persons 
seem  to  be  freaks  of  nature;  made  up  of  mis- 
matched material ; an  assorted  lot ; deviations  from 
the  normal  plan  ; people  remarkable  only  for  their 
eccentricities.  Occasionally  I pass  such  persons  on 
the  street  here.  Jn  the  veins  of  most  of  them  flows 
the  blood  of  two  races,  and  sometimes  of  more. 
Usually  their  appearance  is  so  striking  that  one  is 
eager  to  see  them  again.  Not  a few  of  them  are 
women.  I call  to  mind  one  who  is  of  immediate 
French,  English,  and  Hawaiian  descent.  The  char- 
acteristics of  the  three  races  are  very  marked  in  her. 
Strange  vicissitudes  have  crowded  themselves  into 
her  life.  Born  on  the  Atlantic;  reared  and  edu- 
cated in  England;  connected  with  well-known  fam- 
ilies, both  in  that  country  and  France;  a resident 
of  this  coast  for  forty  years;  several  times  the  pos- 
sessor of  great  wealth,  and  as  many  times  the 
subject  of  absolute  want,  she  has  yet,  under  all 
circumstances,  been  a woman  of  influence,  and  of 
great  charity,  bestowed  often  upon  the  most  lowly. 
She  speaks  Spanish,  Hawaiian,  English,  and  some 
French.  There  are  enough  interesting  facts  con- 
nected with  her  history  to  fill  volumes. 

Peter  Ramau  met  us  at  the  rude  gate  in  front 


124 


CALIFORNIA. 


of  his  home,  opened  it  politely,  and  inquired:  “Are 
you  tired,  ladies  ?” 

Mrs.  H— , who  had  made  several  visits  to  the 
place,  and  knew  the  man  quite  well,  replied : “ It 
costs  your  friends  something  to  visit  yourself  and 
your  flowers,  Mr.  Ramau.” 

“Yes;  and  I’m  so  much  obliged  to  them  for 
coming.  Rest  a little  on  the  porch,  and  then  I ’ll 
show  you  what  Madame  Nature  can  do  at  flower 
making.” 

The  man  has  a large  round  head,  is  broad- 
chested,  and  of  medium  height.  His  eyes  sparkle 
with  pleasure  when  he  smiles,  but  flash  like  flames 
when  he  is  angry,  or  some  unwelcome  thought  of 
the  past  flits  through  his  mind.  His  brain  seems 
to  be  crowded  with  strange  conceits  and  fancies.  A 
reference  to  the  beauty  of  his  flowers  is  sure  to 
cause  these  odd  notions  to  spring  into  the  queerest 
unions,  like  the  bits  of  glass  in  a kaleidoscope. 
His  manner  is  kindly  and  his  disposition  humane. 
Religiously  he  is  a ship  with  anchor  gone.  He 
loves  birds,  dogs,  and  flowers  passionately.  His 
wife  is  dead.  Two  grown  sons  constitute  the  human 
part  of  his  family. 

In  front  and  to  the  right  of  his  rambling  and 
desolate  adobe  house  lies  his  flower  garden,  a par- 


A SINGULAR  CHARACTER . 


125 


allelogram  containing  two  acres  or  less.  No  other 
florist  on  earth  ever  arranged  a garden  spot  like 
that.  It  is  disarranged  like  the  owner’s  brain,  and 
strange  to  say,  the  disorder  in  both  is  one  of  their 
chief  attractions.  Will  the  reader  try  to  imagine  a 
small  patch  of  anemones,  beautiful  beyond  the 
power  of  pen  to  describe,  springing  out  of  a larger 
plat  of  verbenas,  dense,  gay  with  bloom  ? Then 
think  of  more  anemones  waving  on  the  top  of  their 
long,  slender  stems,  among  thorny  rose  bushes  and 
woody  heliotrope;  and  of  more  still,  crowded  by 
azure  forget-me-nots  and  French  pinks  of  every 
hue.  See  tulips  as  large  as  tea-cups,  single,  double, 
mottled,  striped,  ringed,  and  bordered,  with  a dozen 
glorious  colors,  trying  to  get  the  upper  hand  of  fra- 
grant thyme  and  rank  geraniums.  Here,  they  are 
reaching  out  for  sunlight  from  under  small  orange 
trees;  there, from  amid  bushy  fuchsias. 

Bending  over  a cluster  of  anemones,  simply 
matchless  for  the  delicacy,  variety,  and  brilliancy 
of  their  colors,  Mr.  Ramau  clasped  a dozen  of  the 
perfect  cups  with  both  hands,  and  looking  up  in 
my  face,  said,  solemnly: 

“Do  you  know,  madam,  I see  God  in  these.  I 
can ’t  see  him  in  the  Bible.  If  God  were  to  tell 
me,  this  day,  that  in  a year  I must  die,  do  you 


126 


CALIFORNIA. 


know  what  I would  do?” — -tears  glistened  in  the 
man’s  eyes — “I  would  go  to  work  and  collect  every 
variety  of  anemone  under  heaven,  and  get  them  to 
blooming  in  my  ground.  Then  I ’d  watch  them  and 
admire  them  down  to  the  last  hour.  Ah!  madam, 
the  anemone  is  God’s  flower.  Only  look ! Where 
can  you  find  such  a sight?” 

I did  look,  and  could  myself  have  cried  over  the 
flowers.  They  seemed  almost  human,  almost  able 
to  think  and  love.  There  swayed  to-and-fro  splen- 
did cups  of  scarlet,  crimson,  maroon,  deep  red,  rich 
orange,  soft  pink,  and  delicate  straw-color;  cups  of 
blue,  cups  of  purple  and  yellow,  in  shades  magnifi- 
cent. Some  were  single,  others  were  double.  As 
in  the  case  of  the  tulips,  the  man  had  taxed  his 
skill  to  the  uttermost  to  produce  these  marvelous 
tints. 

“Are  you  aware,  madam,”  he  continued,  “ that 
it  is  the  multitude  and  variety  of  anemones  in  the 
gardens  of  Francis  Joseph,  of  Austria,  that  make 
them  so  famous?  My!  madam,  it  is  heaven  to 
walk  there.  There  you  can  see  beds  four  hundred 
feet  long,  containing  ever  variety  of  wind-flower  in 
the  world,  and  all  collected  for  the  enjoyment  of 
the  people.” 

We  remarked:  “It  is  a pity  you  can. not  see 


A SINGULAR  CHARACTER. 


127 


God  in  the  Bible,  since  he  there  speaks  more  to  the 
purpose  on  some  points  than  in  flowers.” 

“ Never  mind;  I see  him  in  these  gems  of  his. 
But  now  mark  what  man  can  do.  Of  anemones 
and  tulips  God  made  just  one  variety.  Man,  taking 
that  beginning,  has,  by  his  skill,  multiplied  the 
varieties  until  now  they  are  endless,  and  so  beauti- 
ful! Madam,  that’s  man.  And  God  doesn’t  even 
make  them  grow.  Man  does  that.  I tell  you, 
there ’s  a deal  of  God  in  man.” 

“Man  is  evidently  your  God,”  we  replied.  “Can 
you  make  a plant  drink,  draw  sustenance  from  the 
soil,  extract  oxygen  from  the  air,  or  appropriate 
sunlight?”  Just  then  two  ladies  entered  the 
grounds,  and  he  turned  to  meet  them. 

During  our  stay  we  had  observed  numerous  dogs 
lying  under  the  trees,  and  playing  about  the  house, 
and  on  his  return  we  inquired  if  he  owned  them. 

“Yes;  they  are  my  family.  Let  me  call  them 
together,  that  you  may  see  them.  I have  seventeen 
in  all.” 

He  was  then  patting  the  heads  of  two  that  were 
impatiently  pulling  at  his  garments,  just  as  I have 
seen  peevish  children  tug  at  a mother’s  clothing. 
Now  he  began  calling,  whistling,  shouting  for  his 
family.  “Lucy!  Lucy!  Here,  Hongkong!  here, 


128 


CALIFORNIA. 


brave  fellow!  Hongkong,  madam,  is^  a Chinese 
dog.  Pat!  here  Pat!  Pat  is  from  green  Erin, 
ladies,  and  does  n’t  like  the  English.” 

Thus  the  man  invited  and  coaxed  until  six  or 
eight  remarkable  specimens  of  the  canine  race  were 
wildly  racing  around  him,  leaping  upon  his  person, 
or  licking  his  hands,  and  all  apparently  anxious  to 
know  why  they  had  been  called  together. 

“Now,  would  you  like  to  hear  them  sing?  Shall 
I show  you  that  some  dogs  know  more  than  some 
men  ?” 

“ If  dogs  can  do  any  thing  more  human  than  to 
bark  and  bite,  we  should  be  interested  in  seeing 
them  do  it,”  we  answered. 

Thereupon,  his  eyes  lighting  up,  he  began  to 
hum  a lively  tune.  Instantly  the  animals  broke 
into  canine  bass,  tenor,  alto,  soprano,  and  all  kept 
time  with  their  leader.  When  the  time  quickened, 
they  leaped  upon  him,  sprang  into  the  air,  whined, 
barked,  howled.  Every  dog  was  in  a perfect  frenzy, 
and  we  were  in  bedlam.  Hongkong,  a splendid 
greyhound,  turned  his  back  toward  his  master, 

stretched  his  long  nose  out  toward  the  sky,  and 

% 

struck  into  a woeful,  piercing  cry,  followed  by  a 
low,  melancholy  wail.  The  creature’s  heart  seemed 
broken.  He  was  telling  his  grief  to  the  invisible 


A SING  ULAR  CHARACTER. 


129 


stars.  His  whole  aspect  betokened  the  deepest  sor- 
row. The  scene  and  the  noise  beggared  description. 
I doubt  if  any  thing  like  it  could  be  witnessed 
outside  of  Southern  California,  where  scenes  and 
objects  unequaled  are  the  rule  rather  than  the  ex- 
ception. 

We  endured  the  horrible  din  five  minutes,  perhaps 
ten,  and  then  entreated  the  strange  man  to  bring 
that  most  unique  of  all  vocal  concerts  to  a close. 
But  the  dogs  were  proud  of  their  accomplishments, 
and  were  far  less  ready  to  end  the  performance  than 
to  begin  it.  By  degrees,  however,  quiet  was  restored. 

Then  said  the  Hungarian:  “ Ladies,  until  re- 
cently I have  kept  two  hundred  mocking-birds. 
The  food  of  the  happy  songsters  cost  me  ten  dollars 
every  week.  At  last  I concluded  that  was  an  ex- 
pensive amusement  for  a poor  man.  So  one  day  I 
opened  the  cages  and  gave  the  sweet  singers  their 
freedom.  You  see  a few  cages  still,  with  here  and 
there  a captive,  but  the  family  numbers  only  fifteen 
now.  I love  nature,  and  could  n’t  live  a day  with- 
out these  dogs,  and  birds,  and  anemones.  Like  that 
lovely  woman  ” — meaning  Mrs.  H — , whose  snowy 
hair,  pleasant  eyes,  and  fair  complexion  attract  notice 
wherever  she  goes — “ they  show  me  how  God  loves 
beautiful  things. 


130 


CALIFORNIA . 


“Madame,  I never  go  to  bed  at  night  without 
taking  a long,  loving  look  at  the  stars ; nor  rise  in 
the  morning  without  indulging  in  a tender  chat  with 
the  beauties  in  my  garden.  I tell  you,  if  I but 
had  money  to  buy  a telescope,  I ’d  spend  the  nights 
in  taking  flights  among  the  stars,  and  during  the 
day  I xd  grow  toward  heaven  among  ray  flowers. 

“Where  was  I born?  In  Vodena,  Hungary,  a 
land  which  General  Fremont  declares  is  the  ‘most 
beautiful  under  the  sun/  and  he  has  seen  it.  For 
several  years  I was  an  officer  in  the  Austrian  army. 
In  1850  I fled  to  this  country.  I married  in  Iowa. 
My  wife  died  in  1869,  leaving  me  two  good  sons. 
Louie  lives  here  with  me.  My  real  name  you  must 
not  know.  The  Austrian  Government  has  searched 
for  me  all  over  these  United  States.” 

It  was  drawing  towards  sunset,  and  other  parties 
arriving,  Mrs.  H — and  myself  strolled  for  a mo- 
ment through  the  trim  orange  orchard  in  the  rear  of 
the  house.  The  handsome  trees  were  laden  with  fra- 
grant blossoms  and  ripe  fruit.  Beyond  this  stretched 
a vineyard  of  considerable  size  and  in  fine  condi- 
tion. The  dresser  of  these  grounds  is  Louie  Raman, 
one  of  the  sons.  Returning,  we  bade  the  father 
good-bye  and  walked  away,  wondering  if  there  were 
on  the  earth  another  mortal  like  him. 


XVIII. 

“©HE  nATIVE  ©A LI  BOSNIANS.” 


IN  his  book  entitled  “ Three  Years  in  California,” 
the  Rev.  Walter  Colton  talks  much  about  the 
“ native  Californians,”  and  in  terms  which  leave 
most  readers  in  doubt  whether  he  means  the  Span- 
iards who  centuries  ago  invaded  California,  or  the 
Ind  ian  races  whom  the  Spaniards  found  here.  The 
latter  are  grouped  by  Mr.  Hubert  H.  Bancroft 
under  three  divisions,  called,  “The  Northern,  Cen- 
tral, and  Southern  Californians.”  These,  then,  were 
the  native  Californians  at  the  time  of  the  Spanish 
invasion,  but  not  the  native  Californians  of  Mr. 
Colton’s  book.  Fully  two  centuries  before  the  ac- 
quirement of  California  by  the  United  States,  the 
Spaniards  had  spread  over  Central  America,  Mex- 
ico, and  California — then  a part  of  Mexico.  They 
not  only  subdued  the  Indian  tribes  or  nations 
inhabiting  these  countries,  but  married,  traded,  and 
lived  among  them,  and  had  possession  of  their  soil. 
Thus,  as  the  years  passed  on  and  on,  there  sprang 
up  a nation  in  whose  veins  flowed  a mixture  of 


132 


CALIFORNIA. 


Spanish  and  Indian  blood,  and  which  spoke  the 
Spanish  language,  corrupted,  in  many  instances,  by 
words  and  phrases  from  the  vocabularies  of  the 
vanquished  peoples. 

Also,  after  Mexico  threw  off  the  Spanish  yoke — 
some  years  prior  to  the  obtaining  of  California  by 
our  government — considerable  colonies  from  that 
country  settled  on  this  part  of  the  coast.  They, 
likewise,  were  of  Spanish  and  native  origin,  and 
spoke  the  Spanish  tongue.  From  these  two  sources, 
then,  come  the  “native  Californians”  with  whom 
we  mingle  to-day,  and  of  Mr.  Colton’s  acquaintance 
from  1846  to  1849.  In  other  words:  Before  they 
became  Americans,  by  our  acquiring  their  territory, 
they  were  Mexicans,  and  by  that  term  are  they 
very  generally  designated  here  to-day.  Tourists 
and  others  often  refer  to  them  as  Castilians,  using 
the  “ pure  Castilian  tongue.”  But  the  fact  is,  few, 
if  any  of  them,  ever  saw  Spain.  Much  less  were 
they  born  in  Castile.  However,  some  of  them  are 
of  full  Spanish  blood,  and  are  intelligent  and  meri- 
torious citizens.  Proverbial  for  politeness  and 
generosity,  often  too  confiding  for  their  own  inter- 
ests, and  always  ready  to  serve  a friend  to  the 
uttermost,  they  of  course  soon  win  the  high  esteem 
of  the  English-speaking  Americans.  Almost  with- 


THE  NATIVE  CALIFORNIANS: 


133 


out  exception  they  are  members  of  the  Catholic 
Church. 

On  the  contrary,  the  lower  orders  of  Mexicans 
are  exceedingly  illiterate,  but  their  condition  in  this 
respect  is  said  to  be  due  not  so  much  to  incapacity 
as  to  neglect.  “ It  must  be  remembered,”  says  an 
educated  missionary  who  has  for  years  labored  among 
them,  “that  their  religion  is  the  Roman  Catholic, 
mingled  still,  in  too  many  cases,  with  traces  of  the 
ancient  worship  of  the  original  tribes.  Owing  to 
the  disposition  of  the  Catholic  Church  to  temporize 
with  its  Indian  converts,  as  it  did  with  the  heathen 
nations  brought  into  its  fold  in  Constantine’s  day, 
they  were  allowed  to  retain  certain  of  their  old 
observances.  From  that  day  to  this  the  Catholic 
Church  has  been  their  teacher,  and,  as  might  be 
expected,  the  lower  Mexican  element  of  our  popu- 
lation to-day,  is,  in  a religious  sense,  elevated  not 
far  above  its  Indian  ancestors  prior  to  the  Spanish 
conquest.” 

It  should  be  remembered  that  those  who  do 
break  away  from  the  Catholic  Church,  among  this 
class  of  Californians,  seem  to  take  most  cordially  to 
the  denominations  whose  forms  of  worship  differ 
most  from  the  showy  services  of  the  system  under 
which  they  have  grown  up.  Many  of  them  enter 


134 


CALIFORNIA . 


the  Presbyterian  fold,  where  they  find  neither  im- 
ages, crucifixes,  lighted  candles,  holy  fire,  holy  water, 
the  confessional,  nor  vestments  for  the  ministry. 

“I  can  not  express  to  you,”  said  an  intelligent 
Mexican,  who  had  been  reared  in  the  Romish 
Church,  but  who  is  now  a Protestant,  “ how  dis- 
tasteful to  me,  for  years,  was  the  sight  of  a clergy- 
man in  robes.  And  usually,  according  to  my 
observation,  when  a Catholic  becomes  dissatisfied 
with  that  system,  he  flees  to  the  one  farthest  removed 
from  it,  or  to  none  at  all.” 

At  three  points  in  Los  Angeles  County  Mexican 
Presbyterian  churches  have  been  established,  the 
stronger  organization  being  in  this  city.  No  Sun-  x 
day-schools  are  conducted  as  yet,  but  a day  school 
is  in  progress  at  Anaheim  and  in  Los  Angeles. 

There  are  now  few  Mexican  families  living  in 
affluence  in  Southern  California.  Formerly  many 
were  rich  in  lands  and  herds,  but  upon  the  accession 
of  the  territory,  understanding  neither  our  language 
nor  our  laws,  they  were  soon  involved  in  endless 
litigations  with  rapacious  fortune-hunters  from  “the 
States,”  who  had  managed,  by  one  means  or  another, 
to  secure  claims  upon  their  property.  Often  in 
these  cases  the  decisions  of  the  Federal  courts  were 
adverse  to  the  Mexicans,  how,  or  why,  the  latter  could 


THE  NATIVE  CALIFORNIANS. 


135 


not  tell,  and  in  an  incredibly  short  time  numbers 
found  themselves  face  to  face  with  poverty.  Unac- 
customed to  work,  few  were  able  to  retrieve  their 
condition,  and  in  their  straits  actually  borrowed 
money  of  the  robbers  at  a ruinous  interest,  and 
mortgaging,  to  secure  its  payment,  whatever  prop- 
erty they  had  left.  Of  course  this  step  hastened  the 
end.  Finally,  realizing  that  they  were  no  match 
for  the  new  proprietors  of  the  soil,  many  became 
disheartened,  “gave  themselves  up  to  melancholy,” 
and  erelong  moved  into  narrow  homes  on  which 
there  were  no  mortgages. 

“ When  I first  came  here,  eleven  years  ago,” 
said  a lady  this  morning,  “ there  were  Mexicans 
everywhere.  They  lounged  on  door-steps,  within 
the  presidios  of  their  homes,  in  front  of  the  shops 
and  stores,  and  along  the  country  roads.  Appar- 
ently without  a care,  they  laughed,  chatted,  and 
danced.  Now,  I meet  a few  on  the  streets  as  I go 
about  the  city,  but  their  number  seems  greatly 
diminished.  Doubtless  some  of  them  have  caught 
the  spirit  of  thrift  and  enterprise  possessed  by  our 
people,  and  have  adopted  habits  of  industry ; but 
my  opinion  is  that  the  race  is  giving  way  before 
the  Americans,  whose  force  and  tenacity  of  life  are 
so  much  greater.” 


136 


CALIFORNIA . 


The  Mexican  women  are  objects  of  great  inter- 
est to  me.  On  the  street  the  middle-aged  woman 
appears  almost  invariably  in  a dress  of  black,  desti- 
tute of  trimmings.  The  skirt  is  made  of  straight 
breadths,  minus  any  thing  like  drapery.  Upon  her 
head,  framing  in  her  swarthy  face,  she  wears, 
usually,  a plain  black  shawl  folded  cornerwise,  and 
held  together  under  her  chin  by  her  ungloved  hand. 
She  never  carries  parasol  or  umbrella,  even  though 
the  Summer  sun,  holding  the  mercury  up  to  100° 
in  the  shade,  beats  down  upon  her  head,  cooking 
her  ideas  and  wrinkling  her  skin.  There  she  goes! 
hair,  eyes,  shawl,  dress,  the  color  of  night;  in  her 
face  no  brightness;  a silent  figure,  destined  to  be 
left  behind  by  a people  whose  skill,  and  power,  and 
range  of  knowledge  simply  bewilder  her. 

Many  of  the  younger  women  strongly  resemble 
each  other,  with  their  black  hair,  dark  eyes,  south- 
ern complexion,  medium  height,  slender  figure,  and 
cheerful,  animated  countenance.  They  dress  in 
colors  and  with  taste,  and  walk  with  an  elastic  step. 
But,  a few  years  hence,  should  they  follow  in  the 
course  of  their  mothers,  their  forms  will  lose  their 
compactness  and  shapeliness.  Their  carriage  will 
become  slow  and  heavy.  American  gentlemen  fre- 
quently marry  daughters  of  the  better  families,  and 


“ THE  NA  T1 VE  CA  LIFORNIANS.”  1 37 

our  young  women  occasionally  take  husbands  from 
among  the  educated  Mexicans.  So  far  as  I have 
been  able  to  learn,  these  unions  prove  quite  as  happy 
as  if  formed  with  persons  of  the  same  race.  Hav- 
ing occasion  the  other  day  to  call  at  the  city  home 
of  Don  Pio  Pico,  the  last  Mexican  governor  of 
California,  I found  there  a niece  of  that  courtly 
gentleman,  from  Santa  Barbara.  She  was  a lady- 
like, beautiful-looking  little  woman,  who  spoke 
English  nicely,  having  enjoyed  the  benefit  of  the 
American  schools  in  that  city.  Some  time  before 
she  had  married  a young  Mr.  Perkins,  from  the 
‘East,  with  whom  she  seemed  to  be  much  pleased, 
and  T could  see  no  reason  why  he  should  not  be 
pleased  with  her. 

On  another  occasion,  when  taking  a walk  in  the 
outskirts  of  the  city,  after  a hard  day’s  work,  I came 
upon  one  of  the  early  rural  homes  of  Los  Angeles. 
The  house  stood  far  back  from  the  street,  in  the 
midst  of  an  orange-grove,  and  was  a many-roomed 
adobe,  built  out  this  way  and  that,  with  a wide 
veranda  running  around  most  of  it,  and  all  the 
apartments  opening  upon  that.  It  was  the  famous 
Wolfskill  residence.  William  Wolfskill  was  a Ken- 
tuckian, I believe,  who  wandered  off  to  this  coast 

and  “ built  this  house  over  fifty  years  ago.”  He 

12 


138 


CALIFORNIA. 


has  gone  to  his  rest,  but  the  place  is  occupied  by  a 
son,  whose  wife  is  a beautiful  Spanish  woman.  En= 
tering  the  open  gateway,  and  following  the  drive 
to  the  house,  I found  Mrs.  Wolfskill  seated  on 
the  veranda,  surrounded  by  a half-dozen  children, 
all  evidently  of  Spanish  descent,  all  busy  doing 
something,  and  apparently  having  a good  time. 
Rising  as  I drew  near,  she  greeted  me  kindly,  using 
excellent  English.  I have  seldom  seen  a more 
attractive  woman.  A wealth  of  dark  hair  was 
coiled  loosely  upon  the  top  of  her  head.  Her  man- 
ners were  charming,  and  I noticed  that  her  toilet 
had  been  made  without  the  use  of  cosmetics,  a fea- 
ture of  dress  which  seems  to  be  very  popular  among 
the  young  women  of  the  Spanish  tongue. 

Upon  my  inquiring  if  the  whole  group  of  little 
ones  were  hers,  she  replied : “ Ah,  no ! I wish  they 
were.  It  is  the  sorrow  of  my  life  that  I have  not 
such  a family  of  children.  I love  them,  and  find 
great  pleasure  in  caring  for  them.  The  babe  only 
is  mine.”  After  chatting  a little  time,  and  the 
evening  shadows  beginning  to  fall,  I bade  her  good- 
night, having  enjoyed  the  call.  Afterward  I learned 
that  the  lady  represents  the  best  class  of  Spanish- 
speaking people  on  the  coast.  For  that  reason  I 
mention  the  trifling  incident  of  my  call. 


XIX. 

Schools  op  Ltos  ^nobles. 


NORMAL  SCHOOL — LADIES’  COLLEGE — STATE  UNIVERSITY,  AND 
MAGNETIC  OBSERVATORY. 


OR  twelve  years  Los  Angeles  has  supported  an 


excellent  system  of  public  schools.  Although 
the  city  covers  a large  area,  school-houses  are  conven- 
iently located  in  every  part.  Many  of  the  build- 
ings are  new,  thoroughly  equipped  for  their  purpose, 
and  are  attractive  externally.  And  it  is  doubtful 
if  in  any  city  of  its  size  there  can  be  found  a body 
of  teachers  better  qualified.  Indeed  the  city  is 
reputed  for  the  high  scholarship  of  the  teachers  in 
the  graded  schools.  Moreover,  the  State  itself  de- 
mands unusual  accomplishments  in  the  candidates 
for  certificates.  It  has  been  said  that  eastern  teach- 
ers of  experience  have  sometimes  failed  to  pass  the 
examinations  it  requires.  A principal  in  one  of  the 
schools  has  just  stated  that  applicants  for  certificates 
must  pass  an  examination  in  a number  of  branches 

not  demanded  in  other  States.  He  must  be  familiar 

♦ 


139 


140 


CALIFORNIA . 


with  the  school  laws  of  California,  and  have  an  intel- 
ligent acquaintance  with  the  State  Constitution. 

A.  branch  of  the  State  Normal  School  is  making 
fine  headway  here  under  Professor  Ira  More  as 
principal.  Accompanied  by  this  gentleman  and 
Mrs.  More,  on  a recent  Wednesday,  the  writer  took 
a look  through  the  great  Normal  School  building, 
and  paid  some  attention  to  the  methods  of  instruc- 
tion. It  may  truthfully  be  said  that,  from  basement 
to  roof,  the  structure  is  one  of  the  best  lighted, 
best  ventilated,  and  most  economically  arranged,  I 
have  ever  seen  for  the  purpose.  It  is  a handsome 
edifice,  built  of  brick,  is  three  stories  in  height,  has 
spacious  halls,  ample  class-rooms,  and  enough  of 
them,  a sunny  office  for  the  principal,  a bright  par- 
lor for  the  preceptress,  an  inviting  library  on  the  first 
floor,  partially  filled  with  helpful  books,  and  a well- 
equipped  laboratory  in  the  basement.  In  this  latter 
room  the  professor  of  chemistry,  Miss  Sarah  P. 
Monks,  an  alumnus  of  Vassar  College,  becomes  a 
Michael  Faraday  every  afternoon  to  a class  of 
shrewd,  inquiring  young  men  and  women.  In  the 
cheerful  chapel,  commanding  a broad  outlook  west- 
ward, down  the  rich  Cahuenga  Valley,  I found 
assembled  for  the  simple  religious  exercises  of  the 
morning,  nearly  two  hundred  pupils  in  training 


STATE  NORMAL  SCHOOL . 


141 


for  the  teacher’s  profession.  They  were  an  earnest, 
sensible-looking  company  of  students,  evidently  not 
at  school  for  play,  and  represented  a half-dozen 
nationalities,  I should  judge.  Their  free  and  fre- 
quent questions  upon  the  subjects  under  study  in 
the  class-rooms,  afterward,  showed  they  were  work- 
ing for  a purpose. 

The  Normal-school  building  crowns  a command- 
ing eminence  between  Bunker  Hill  Avenue  and 
Charity  Street,  and  has  the  distinction  of  being  the 
only  school  of  its  class  in  the  United  States,  which 
is  located  in  the  midst  of  an  orange  grove.  The 
art  of  the  landscape  gardener  is  now  converting 
the  formerly  rough  hill-side  in  front  of  it,  into  a 
picture  wherein  mingle  flowers,  trees,  terraces,  a 
fountain,  and  graveled  drives.  Glancing  in  any  di- 
rection from  the  windows  of  the  building,  or  from 
its  high  tower,  the  views  of  the  country  are  in- 
spiring. In  the  east  loom  up  the  stately  Sierra 
Madre  Mountains.  On  the  west  and  north-west 
rise  the  Santa  Monica  and  San  Fernando  chains, 
their  sides  chiseled  with  the  storms  of  centuries, 
while  towards  the  south  stretches  the  verdant 
Los  Angeles  valley,  bordered,  twenty  miles  away, 
by  a strip  of  the  sea.  All  around  lives  the  city, 
busy,  taking  on  greater  vigor  every  day.  How 


142 


CALIFORNIA . 


could  intelligent  young  men  and  women  be  other- 
wise than  in  earnest,  while  fitting  themselves  for 
life’s  work,  amid  such  scenes? 

Westward,  a distance  of  three  miles,  or  less, 
stands  the  ci  University  of  Southern  California,” 
founded  by  the  Methodists  in  1878.  Its  curricu- 
lum is  open  to  both  sexes.  The  institution  is  a 
thriving  one,  occupies*  a fine  building,  and  holds  the 
title  to  considerable  real  estate.  It  has  the  confi- 
dence of  the  community,  and  looks  forward  to  suc- 
cess. An  important  department  of  this  University, 
is  the  Chaffey  College  of  Horticulture,  located  at 
Ontario,  the  model  colony  of  Southern  California. 

Now  turn  your  eye  toward  that  lovely  eleva- 
tion lying  to  the  north-west  of  the  Normal  School, 
and  possibly  a mile  distant.  The  handsome  struc- 
ture you  see,  built  in  the  composite  style,  so  much 
in  favor  just  now,  is  Ellis  Villa  College,  a school 
for  young  ladies,  built  and  opened  in  1884  by  Rev. 
John  Ellis,  then  pastor  of  the  First  Presbyterian 
Church  of  Los  Angeles,  but  now  the  president  of 
the  college.  The  building  overlooks  scenery  as 
varied  as  that  seen  from  the  Normal  School.  The 
grounds  are  charmingly  improved.  Every  young 
woman  privileged  to  pursue  her  course  of  study 
in  the  presence  of  so  much  that  is  noble  and  beau- 


ELLIS  VILLA  COLLEGE . 


143 


tiful  in  nature,  ought  to  form  a character  as  attract- 
ive as  the  scenes  she  looks  upon. 

About  the  time  the  Ellis  Villa  School  opened 
its  doors,  there  was  established  at  Hermosa  Vista 
Hill,  a delightful  eminence  lying  between  the  city  of 
Los  Angeles  and  the  village  of  Pasadena,  the  “ Eden 
of  Southern  California,”  a college  for  young  men,  also 
under  the  auspices  of  the  Presbyterian  Church,  but 
not  intended  to  be  sectarian.  Dr.  Ellis  was  one  of 
the  prime  movers  in  the  enterprise.  When  pro- 
jected, both  these  schools  were  by  many  thought  to 
be  far  in  advance  of  the  necessities  in  the  line  of  edu- 
cation,  because  in  advance  of  the  population  neces- 
sary to  sustain  them.  But  the  cautious  ones  could 
not  foresee,  that  in  the  short  space  of  three  years 
the  metropolis  of  Southern  California  would  double 
the  number  of  its  inhabitants,  and  that  the  in- 
crease of  population  in  the  county  would  preserve 
a fair  proportion  to  that  of  the  city,  thus  creating 
a demand  for  institutions  of  this  class.  On  their 
arrival  here,  now,  settlers  find  well  planted  and 
at  work,  every  grade  of  school,  from  the  kinder- 
garten to  the  university. 

The  College  of  Hermosa  Vista  Hill  is  as  favored 
as  those  I have  described  for  scenic  surroundings, 
being  seated  almost  under  the  shadows  of  the  Sierra 


144 


CALIFORNIA . 


Madre,  with  the  fair  San  Gabriel  valley  spread  out 
on  one  side.  Here,  surely,  young  men  may  pre- 
pare to  live  for  their  country,  if  not  to  die  for  it. 

I learn  this  morning  that  the  Baptists  and 
Episcopalians  are  soon  to  appear  on  the  field,  bid- 
ding for  their  share  of  patronage  for  schools  of  a 
high  order.  Thus  about  all  the  ground  will  be 
occupied,  and  the  children  of  all  denominations  may 
hurry  forward.  Teachers,  books,  and  desks  will  be 
ready  for  them. 

Now  if  the  reader  is  not  weary,  we  will  retrace 
our  steps  to  the  fine,  sloping  ground  in  the  rear  of 
the  Normal  School.  Here,  built  into  the  hill-side, 
and  half  hidden  by  the  orange  trees,  we  shall  find 
an  institution  of  an  entirely  different,  but  most 
interesting  character.  This  is  an  “ observatory  for 
determining  the  direction,  variation,  and  force  of 
the  magnetic  current.”  It  is  the  only  observatory 
of  the  kind  in  the  United  States,  and  the  best  one 
in  the  world.  There  are  in  this  country  several 
other  stations  where  partial  or  occasional  observa- 
tions of  the  magnetic  current  are  made.  But  here 
the  record  is  ceaseless.  The  work  of  the  needles 
stops  night  nor  day,  for  holy  day  nor  holiday. 
Here  is  one  kind  of  perpetual  motion.  The  officer 
whom  the  government  appoints  to  duty  in  this 


THE  MA  GNETIC  OBSER  VA  TOR  Y. 


145 


dark,  double-walled  mite  of  a structure,  is  little 
better  than  buried.  Unless  he  has  an  assistant, 
competent  and  faithful,  he  has  no  hours  off.  The 
magnetic  current  knows  no  Sunday.  It  furnishes  a 
man  no  tent  on  the  sea-shore  for  a three  weeks* 
vacation  in  Summer. 

The  officer  now  in  charge  of  this  observatory  is 
Charles  C.  Terry,  Jr.,  of  Columbus,  Georgia,  and 
is  a relative — cousin,  if  I am  correct — of  General 
Terry,  of  Fort  Fisher  fame.  The  reader  remem- 
bers that  General  Terry  distinguished  himself  by 
carrying  that  stronghold  by  assault,  after  General 
B.  F.  Butler,  co-operating  with  Admiral  Porter,  in 
an  unsuccessful  attempt  to  capture  the  fort,  declared 
it  could  not  be  taken.  Charles  Terry  is  a young 
man,  thirty  years  of  age,  perhaps,  and  though  very 
courteous  and  obliging,  seldom  admits  a visitor  in- 
side his  castle,  especially  if  he  lacks  the  intelligence 
to  comprehend  its  purpose  and  machinery.  The 
writer  was  fortunate  in  having  a “ friend  at  court/* 
and  got  in. 

After  our  glance  at  the  teaching  of  all  sorts 

of  sciences  at  the  Normal  School,  Mrs.  More 

and  myself  concluded  we  should  like  to  see  the 

inside  of  a building  so  rare  as  is  this  observatory, 

and  to  learn  how  the  changes  made  by  that  myste- 
13 


146 


CALIFORNIA. 


rious  force,  magnetism,  are  recorded..  Professor 
More,  therefore,  accompanied  us  down  the  narrow 
board  walk  leading  to  the  little  hut  in  the  ground, 
and  as  we  approached  the  door,  said: 

“ Ladies,  you  *d  better  wait  outside  until  I see 
if  you  can  be  admitted.”  Then,  with  a firm,  steady 
push,  he  turned  the  solid  outer  door  on  its  hinges, 
and  with  a slow  and  cautious  step,  lest  he  should 
jar  the  magnetic  needles,  so  faithfully  at  work  in 
their  dark  dungeon,  entered  the  narrow  passage 
separating  the  inner  from  the  outer  wall,  and 
disappeared.  Meanwhile,  we  who  were  in  waiting, 
speculated  as  to  the  things  within,  and  questioned 
if  it  were  possible  to  tread  lightly  enough  not  to 
cause  the  delicate  instruments  to  break  the  ninth 
commandment.  In  a short  time  our  friend  emerged, 
saying : 

“Mr.  Terry  is  busy  performing  a difficult  piece 
of  work,  which  must  not  be  laid  aside.  But  he  says 
that  if  you  will  call  again  in  a half-hour  you  will 
be  welcome,  and  he  will  take  pleasure  in  explaining 
to  you  how  man,  by  his  wonderful  inventions,  has 
compelled  the  magnetic  current  to  disclose  some  of 
the  laws  by  which  it  is  governed.” 

We  all  returned  to  the  school  building,  where 
Mrs.  More  and  myself  passed  the  half-hour  list- 


THE  MAGNETIC  OBSERVATORY. 


147 


ening  to  a specimen  of  able  teaching  of  grammar. 
Then  returning  to  the  observatory , we  pushed  open 
the  massive  door,  closed  it  softly  behind  us,  groped 
our  way  along  the  dark  hall  until  we  came  to  a 
door  made  partly  of  glass,  and  through  which  fell  a 
faint  light.  Upon  our  rapping  gently,  it  was  in- 
stantly opened  by  Mr.  Terry,  in  shirt-sleeves  and 
long  apron,  the  latter  made  of  striped  ticking,  and 
covering  him  from  the  neck  down. 

Greeting  us  kindly,  he  immediately  defined  the 
work  of  the  observatory  to  be:  “The  photographing 
on  paper,  and  afterwards  making  them  permanent 
by  chemical  processes,  the  direction,  changes,  dip, 
and  inclination  of  the  magnetic  current.” 

He  then  spent  some  moments  explaining  the  use 
of  certain  appliances  of  his  work-room,  as  a sort  of 
introduction  to  our  next  lesson.  Then  asking  us 
to  resign  our  steel-ribbed  umbrellas  to  the  care  of 
his  chemicals,  and  charging  us  to  step  lightly,  he 
led  the  way  to  a small,  double-walled,  windowless 
inner  room,  the  walls  of  which  were  black  with 
smoke  from  burning  lamps.  Admitting  us  first,  he 
followed  and  carefully  closed  the  door.  Here,  each 
under  a small  glass  dome  covered  with  black  cloth, 
were  three  magnetic  needles,  suspended  by  delicate 
cords.  One  of  them  indicating  the  vertical  force, 


148 


CALIFORNIA . 


another  the  horizontal  force,  and  the  third  the  dip 
and  inclination  of  the  current  of  terrestrial  magnet- 
ism. These  needles  are  seldom,  if  ever,  absolutely 
at  rest.  Their  movements  are  photographed  by  light 
obtained  from  three  coal-oil  lamps,  kept  always 
burning.  The  light  is  focalized  by  small  mirrors, 
upon  strips  of  white  paper,  placed  in  an  upright 
cylinder,  itself  incased  in  dark  cloth.  Mr.  Terry 
explained,  in  a clear  and  interesting  way,  the  man- 
ner in  which  all  this  work  is  done.  But  I forbear 
attempting  the  task  here,  lest  the  words  I should 
use  might  shock  those  nicely  hung  needles  into 
recording  a great  deviation  of  the  magnetic  current. 
Should  the  reader  ever  visit  Los  Angeles  let  him 
pay  a visit  to  the  Normal  School,  where  Professor 
More  will  make  him  welcome,  and  then  walk  down 
to  the  observatory  and  take  a look  at  it.  There  is 
little  hope  of  his  getting  inside,  but  it  is  a satisfac- 
tion to  say  one  has  seen  the  place. 

However,  should  you  gain  admission  into  that 
strange  inner  room,  you  will  probably  be  required 
to  leave  behind  you,  not  your  umbrellas  only,  but 
your  gold  rings,  watches,  the  metallic  buttons  on 
your  clothing,  and,  if  you  are  a woman,  your  hoop- 
skirts  and  corsets,  if  they  have  steels  in  them.  All 
these  things  will  so  attract  the  magnets  towards  you 


THE  MAGNETIC  OBSERVATORY . 


149 


as  to  make  them  fail  in  their  duty  to  the  govern- 
ment. To  some  extent  Mrs.  More  and  myself 
were  so  appareled,  but  Mr.  Terry  politely  said  that, 
instead  of  asking  us  to  lay  the  articles  aside,  he 
would,  in  his  report  for  that  day,  state  the  cause  of 
the  aberration  of  the  magnets,  that  the  blame  might 
not  be  charged  to  the  magnetic  current. 

Upon  my  return  to  Los  Angeles  last  October, 
after  an  absence  of  two  years  on  the  northern  part 
of  the  coast,  I learned  that  Mr.  Terry,  failing  in 
health,  contemplated  resigning  his  position.  His 
misfortune  was  thought  by  his  friends  to  be  due  to 
two  causes — close  confinement  in  the  observatory, 
and  excessive  smoking.  To  smoke,  therefore,  is 
one  thing  which  the  magnetic  force  allows  a man 
to  do.  None  the  less,  he  makes  a mistake  who  does 
it.  They  said  Mr.  Terry  “ smoked  for  company.” 
If  there  is  a place  in  the  world  where  the  practice 
would  be  justified  on  that  ground,  that  little  hut  in 
the  ground  is  the  one. 


XX. 


fl  HOBLE  glONEEI^ 


OR  some  years  preceding,  as  well  as  subsequent 


to,  the  accession  of  California,  there  figured  on 
the  Pacific  Coast  many  remarkable  characters. 
Among  them,  besides  native  Californians,  were 
Americans  from  every  quarter  of  the  Union,  and 
also  representatives  of  every  nation  on  the  globe. 
Some  of  them  were  brave,  upright  men,  loyal  as 
.friends,  generous  to  a fault,  incapable  of  an  unmanly 
deed.  Others  were  unprincipled,  mercenary,  and 
placed  a low  value  upon  human  life.  To  commit 
crime  seemed  as  natural  to  them  as  to  breathe.  Of 
these  some  sprang  fiaom  an  ignoble  ancestry.  In 
others  the  bad  blood  seemed  to  start  with  them- 
selves; but  ill-doing  distinguished  them  all.  So- 
ciety lived  in  terror  of  them,  and  slept  peacefully 
only  when  the  earth  was  rounded  above  their 
graves.  But  one  by  one  both  classes  have  left  the 
stage,  until  to-day  a survivor  is  met  only  here  and 
there.  Of  one  of  these  survivors,  ranking  in  the 
first  category,  I have  occasion  to  speak  in  this 
chapter. 


150 


A NOBLE  PIONEER . 


151 


Colonel  J.  J.  Warner,  now  an  active  octogena- 
rian, has  resided  in  this  part  of  the  Golden  State 
for  fifty-six  years.  These  years  embrace  the  most 
interesting  and  most  exciting  period  in  the  modern 
history  of  California.  In  the  stirring  scenes  attend- 
ing the  transfer  of  the  Territory  to  the  United 
States,  as  in  the  more  turbulent  and  rancorous  ones 
of  the  late  Civil  War,  when  wide  difference  of  opin- 
ion as  to  the  right  of  the  government  to  coerce  the 
slaveholding  States  divided  the  citizens  of  the  coast, 
Colonel  Warner  was  no  inconsiderable  figure.  Fear- 
less, resolute,  absolutely  loyal  to  the  government, 
he  stood  a steadfast  advocate  of  the  Union,  when 
the  fiery  adherents  of  secession,  by  whom  the  State 
was  thronged,  were  determined  to  carry  California 
for  the  Confederacy.  Colonel  Warner  lived  long 
also  in  the  midst  of  treacherous  Indian  tribes, 
where  a moment's  hesitation,  in  exigent  cases, would 
have  proved  fatal  to  his  own  and  others'  priceless 
interests.  More  than  once  his  prompt  action  in 
great  danger  saved  human  lives  and  property. 

Thus  for  many  years  following  his  settlement 
in  Los  Angeles  were  the  circumstances  of  his 
life  such  as  to  bring  out  the  strong  traits  in  his 
character. 

Such  men,  living  in  such  times,  usually  make 


152 


CALIFORNIA . 


bitter  enemies;  but  of  this  venerable  pioneer,  not 
one  of  the  surviving  zealous  partisans  of  to-day 
speaks  in  other  than  terms  of  friendship  and  respect. 
Not  a tongue  is  barbed  with  enmity.  And  if  gen- 
eral testimony  be  accepted,  none  have  won  greater 
respect  for  their  opinions,  or  higher  appreciation  of 
their  worth,  than  has  the  subject  of  this  sketch,  the 
first  president  of  the  California  Historical  Society. 

Colonel  Warner  is  a native  of  Lyme,  Connecti- 
cut, in  which  place  he  was  born  in  the  year  1807. 
His  ancestors  were  early  settlers  in  that  part  of  the 
State,  and  were  persons  of  influence.  His  maternal 
grandfather,  Samuel  Selden,  was  a colonel  in  Wash- 
ington’s army  when  the  colonial  force  evacuated 
New  York.  Colonel  Warner  is  himself  a favorite 
uncle  of  the  wife  of  Chief- Justice  Waite.  He  is  a 
cousin  of  the  wife  of  the  eminent  Judge  Ranney, 
of  Cleveland,  Ohio.  Other  of  his  relatives  scattered 
over  the  Buckeye  State  are  quite  numerous.  Among 
them  is  President  C.  C.  Waite,  of  the  Cincinnati, 
Hamilton  and  Dayton  Railway.  Probably  a half- 
century  has  passed  since  one  of  these  friends  has 
grasped  the  hand  of  the  esteemed  pioneer. 

In  October,  1830,  Mr.  Warner,  being  then  twenty- 
three  years  of  age,  and  of  frail  constitution,  left 
Connecticut  to  seek  health  and  fortune  in  the  “ far 


A NOBLE  PIONEER. 


153 


West.”  Arriving  in  St.  Louis  early  in  December, 
he  there  made  the  acquaintance  of  Jedediah  S. 
Smith,  a famous  member  of  the  Rocky  Mountain 
Fur  Company.  The  noted  trapper  had  just  come 
into  the  bustling  village  from  the  North-west,  with 
an  invoice  of  furs.  He  was  accompanied  by  his 
partners,  Jackson  and  the  Soublette  brothers. 
Young  Warner's  imagination  was  excited  by 
their  stirring  accounts  of  trapper  life,  and  he  con- 
cluded that  rough  fare  and  mountain  air  were  just 
the  things  required  to  render  him  strong  and 
vigorous.  So,  seeking  an  interview  with  the  in- 
trepid Smith,  he  conferred  with  him  in  reference 
to  spending  a limited  time  at  his  camps  in  the  dis- 
tant mountains.  The  hardy  trapper  discouraged 
the  step,  and  the  tall  New  England  youth  had  to 
content  himself  with  spending  the  Winter  in  the 
“ metropolis  of  Missouri.”  However,  when  the 
Spring  opened,  Mr.  Smith,  who  also  had  remained 
in  St.  Louis,  offered  him  a position  in  an  expedi- 
tion he  was  organizing  to  convey  a quantity  of 
merchandise  to  Santa  Fe,  and  once  there,  Mr. 
Warner  might  choose  between  remaining  in  the 
capital  of  New  Mexico  and  returning  East  for  a 
fresh  stock  of  goods.  Smith  himself  headed  the 
enterprise,  but  not  long  after  reaching  Santa  Fe  he 


154 


CALIFORNIA. 


met  his  death  at  the  hands  of  Indians  on  the  Sem- 
eron  River.  This  blow  broke  up  the  operations  of 
his  firm  in  New  Mexico.  Mr.  Jackson  wound  up 
their  affairs,  and  in  company  with  his  young  friend 
Warner  started  on  the  perilous  overland  journey  to 
Southern  California,  crossing  the  great  desert  of  which 
considerable  has  already  been  said  in  this  volume, 
and  arrived  in  Los  Angeles  in  November,  1831. 

A few  months  subsequently  Mr.  Warner,  desir- 
ous of  seeing  something  of  the  vast  North-west, 
joined  a hunting  party  bound  to  the  San  Joaquin 
River  and  its  tributaries,  to  the  Sacramento  and  its 
branches,  and  thence  northward  to  the  mouth  of  the 
Umpqua  River  in  Oregon,  and  from  that  point  east- 
ward to  the  Klamath  Lake  region.  In  this  then 
long  and  perilous  trip,  the  young  man  accomplished 
his  earnest  desire  to  take  life  roughly  for  awhile. 
The  adventures  of  the  party  were  numerous,  and 
some  of  them  trying,  if  not  exciting.  For  the  fa- 
tigue and  hardship  he  cared  little,  if  he  might  but 
take  his  share  in  the  risks  and  perils,  and  in  the  end 
trail  out  a Hercules  in  strength.  And  this  he  did, 
if  the  stories  now  told  of  his  subsequent  almost 
incredible  feats  of  horsemanship,  and  of  his  ability 
to  cope  with  a score  of  armed  assailants,  be  true. 

In  those  early  days,  trapping  beaver  in  the  great 


A NOBLE  PIONEER. 


155 


mountain  ranges  of  the  West  was  an  exciting  pur- 
suit. Young  men  eager  to  engage  in  it  were  never 
lacking.  All  California  was  traversed  by  parties 
of  bold  hunters,  who,  upon  carrying  their  furs  to 
market  in  the  East,  set  afloat  marvelous  accounts  of 
the  fair  land.  Twenty  years  later  there  were  resid- 
ing in  Oregon,  Washington,  and  California,  num- 
bers of  men,  of  distinguished  endowments,  who  had 
served  an  apprenticeship  in  trapping;  men  who  had 
been  attached  to  the  hazardous  business,  fascinated 
by  the  wild,  independent  life  they  led.  But  the 
country  settling  up,  one  after  another,  for  various 
reasons,  abandoned  the  mountains  and  took  up  his 
residence  on  the  coast.  Some  turned  their  attention 
to  civil  affairs,  and  have  rendered  excellent  service 
to  the  Pacific  States. 

Returning  to  Los  Angeles  after  an  absence  of 
fourteen  months,  Mr.  Warner  settled  permanently 
in  Southern  California.  He  was  now  twenty-seven 
years  of  age.  Three  years  later,  1837,  he  was 
united  in  marriage  to  a young  lady  who  was  the 
ward  of  Don  Pio  Pico,  then  administrator  of  the 
Mission  of  San  Luis  Rey,  and  afterward  Mexican 
governor  of  California.  The  mother  of  the  young 
woman  being  dead,  her  father  had  placed  her  at 
school  in  this  mission.  When  the  marriage  took 


156 


CALIFORNIA . 


place,  Mr.  Pico  acted  as  godfather  of  the  groom, 
in  obedience  to  a requirement  of  the  Catholic 
Church,  I believe.  Out  of  this  relation  sprang  an 
attachment  between  the  two  young  men,  which  has 
known  no  change  through  fifty  eventful  years.  Mr. 
Pico,  of  whom  something  is  said  further  on  in  this 
volume,  is  now  a resident  of  this  city.  He  has  seen 
upwards  of  eighty  years,  and  is  a person  of  striking 
appearance. 

Mr.  and  Mrs.  Warner  established  their  home  in 
Los  Angeles,  where  they  resided  for  a considerable 
period,  and  here  occurred  one  of  the  incidents  which 
attest  the  man’s  courage,  and  exemplify  his  fidelity 
to  his  friends. 

During  the  Mexican  regime  in  California,  local 
rebellions  were  frequent  on  the  coast.  Factions  out 
of  power  were  ever  plotting  to  unseat  those  in 
authority.  The  city  of  Los  Angeles  was  sometimes 
the  theater  for  this  sort  of  pastime,  and  one  morn- 
ing Mr.  Warner  found  himself  suddenly  and  inno- 
cently taking  part  in  one  of  these  emeutes.  The 
conflict  began  and  ended  so  quickly,  however,  that 
it  seemed  more  like  a whiff  of  air  off  a battle-field 
than  like  a genuine  struggle.  When  it  was  passed 
the  hero  found  himself  the  possessor  of  a broken 
arm  and  needing  the  help  of  a surgeon. 


A NOBLE  PIONEER . 


157 


Upon  throwing  open  their  dwellings  early  one 
sunny  morning  in  April,  I forget  what  year,  the 
citizens  of  Los  Angeles  were  surprised  to  see  a 
company  of  armed  soldiers  encamped  on  their  plaza, 
as  a convenient  point  for  operations  in  any  direc- 
tion. The  commander  of  the  body  was  one  Espin- 
osa, an  adherent  of  the  then  reigning  governor, 
Alvarado.  The  purpose  of  his  silent  and  secret 
entrance  into  the  city  was  the  arrest  of  certain 
prominent  men  suspected  of  disaffection  toward 
Alvarado,  and  of  conspiring  to  reinstate  in  the 
gubernatorial  chair  one  Corrillio,  previously  deposed 
from  that  office.  Among  the  suspected  persons  were 
Don  Pio  Pico  and  his  brother,  Andrez  Pico,  subse- 
quently quite  a notable  character  in  the  history  of 
Southern  California,  and  a search  for  these  parties 
had  already  begun. 

Colonel  and  Mrs.  Warner  were  seated  at  the 
breakfast  table,  in  a cozy  room  at  the  rear  of  his 
store,  when  an  authoritative  knock  upon  the  front 
door  caused  the  husband  to  spring  to  his  feet.  Upon 
opening  the  door  there  confronted  him  a number 
of  Espinosa’s  men,  who  inquired  if  Don  Pio  Pico 
were  there.  They  were  courteously  informed  that 
he  was  not.  Not  satisfied,  they  proposed  to  search 
the  premises,  a privilege  which  was  at  once  refused. 


158 


CALIFORNIA. 


This  provoked  an  attempt  to  arrest  the  proprietor, 
who  stoutly  resisted.  A hand-to-hand  struggle 
ensued,  and  the  parties  were  soon  struggling  in  the 
street,  immediately  below  where  the  St.  Charles  and 
St.  Elmo  hotels  now  stand.  At  this  juncture  Es- 
pinosa himself  appeared,  coming  out  of  Commercial 
Street,  with  his  revolver  drawn.  Perceiving  him, 
Colonel  Warner  realized  his  danger,  and  with  great 
force  breaking  away  from  his  assailants,  he  made  a 
dash  upon  that  officer,  and  wrested  the  weapon 
from  his  hand.  Soon  after,  having  occasion  to  use 
his  left  arm,  he  found  it  would  not  obey  his  will. 
In  the  struggle  to  quickly  free  himself  from  his 
captors,  one  of  them,  intending  to  disable  him,  had 
by  an  instantaneous  blow  broken  the  arm  between 
the  shoulder  and  elbow. 

At  that  moment  Mr.  William  Wolfskill,  one  of 
the  remarkable  men  of  the  place,  and  a staunch 
friend  of  Colonel  Warner,  appeared  in  the  doorway 
of  his  own  business  house,  and  comprehending  the 
status  of  affairs  in  the  street,  advanced  toward  the 
crowd,  himself  well  armed.  Seeing  him  and  divin- 
ing his  intent,  the  wounded  man  cried  out : 

“Do  n’t  shoot;  I do  n’t  want  any  man  killed.” 

These  words  had  the  effect  to  allay  the  heat  of 
Espinosa  and  his  company,  who,  after  a short 


A NOBLE  PIONEER, 


159 


parley,  released  their  captive.  Meanwhile  the  Picos, 
early  informed  of  the  captain’s  errand,  had  made 
their  escape.  Some  days  later,  however,  they,  with 
a half-dozen  other  prominent  citizens,  were  arrested 
and  conveyed  to  Santa  Barbara  “ as  prisoners  of 
war!”  Nearly  fifty  years  have  passed  away  since 
that  day,  yet  the  victim  of  that  rencounter  recalls 
the  circumstances  as  clearly  and  as  readily  as  if  the 
event  had  happened  only  yesterday. 

In  the  year  1846,  Colonel  Warner  secured  from 
the  Mexican  government  a valuable  grant  of  land, 
embracing  twenty-six  thousand  acres,  or  six  square 
leagues.  The  tract  adjoined  the  lands  belonging  to 
the  San  Luis  Rey  Mission,  and  also  skirted  the  old 
through  wagon-road  from  San  Diego  to  Fort  Yuma. 
It  lay  some  sixty  miles  east  of  the  former  place,  and 
one  hundred  and  twenty  south-east  of  Los  Angeles. 
Some  time  in  1844  Mr.  Warner  removed  his  family 
to  this  princely  estate.  Thenceforth  it  was  known 
as  “ Warner’s  Ranch,”  and  bears  that  name  to-day, 
though  years  have  elapsed  since  the  title  thereto 
was  vested  in  Colonel  Warner. 

A distinguished  Californian,  writing  upon  inci- 
dents connected  with  those  dangerous  days  in  this 
part  of  the  State,  says : 

“ Colonel  John  J.  Warner,  a pioneer  whose  mag- 


160 


CALIFORNIA . 


nificent  domain  was  the  first  reached  by  the  immi- 
grant after  crossing  the  Colorado  desert,  was  always 
open-hearted  and  generous  to  the  wayworn  trav- 
eler, and  nearly  impoverished  himself  by  his  acts  of 
charitable  liberality.  All  honor  to  the  benevolent 
old  pioneer.” 

Once  in  possession  of  these  broad  acres,  the  next 
step  was  the  stocking  them  liberally  with  horses, 
cattle,  and  sheep.  This  Colonel  Warner  did,  and 
shortly  was  reputed  to  be  “ immensely  rich.”  But 
to-day,  while  comfort  and  plenty  find  lodgment  at 
the  honorable  man’s  fireside,  he  is  no  longer  a 
Croesus  of  the  plains.  In  some  of  the  many  vicis- 
situdes which  have  swept  over  this  region,  probably 
some  of  this  wealth  took  wings  and  flew  away. 
Much  of  it  certainly  was  expended  in  charity.  Not 
a little  was  stolen  by  marauding  Indians,  as  the 
following  occurrence  shows : 

The  ranchos  of  that  period  were  kept  munifi- 
cently supplied,  not  only  with  groceries  and  provis- 
ions for  the  entertainment  of  large  companies  of 
guests  and  frequent  needy  travelers,  but  also  with  a 
full  and  often  expensive  assortment  of  dry  goods. 
This  was  especially  the  case  at  Colonel  Warner’s 
frontier  home.  The  man  who  could  so  liberally 
provide  for  strangers  and  friends  practiced  no  par- 


A NOBLE  PIONEER. 


161 


simony  in  supplying  the  wants  of  his  family.  One 
is  not  surprised  that  the  vast  store  of  necessaries 
and  luxuries  always  on  hand  at  the  Warner  rancho 
should  sooner  or  later  excite  the  cupidity  of  preda- 
tory Indians,  of  whom  a plenty  were  the  colonel's 
neighbors. 

During  the  year  1851  he  was  repeatedly  warned 
of  a threatened  attack  from  the  Cowia  tribe,  num- 
bering several  hundred,  and  living  in  villages  not 
far  from  his  estate.  Hardly  believing  the  reports, 
he,  however,  took  the  precaution  to  remove  his  wife 
and  children  to  San  Diego,  starting  them  out  in  the 
night,  under  escort  of  one  Captain  Nye,  a sea-faring 
friend  of  the  family,  who  happened  to  be  on  a visit 
to  the  rancho.  A little  before  sunrise  the  second 
morning  after  their  departure,  the  colonel  was 
awakened  by  the  shouts  of  savages  around  the  house. 
Having  kept  watch  during  the  night,  he  had  lain 
down  toward  day,  taking  care  not  to  remove  his 
shoes,  and  was  at  the  moment  in  a sound  slumber. 

On  a table  at  the  bedside  lay  several  loaded 
pistols  and  a fowling-piece  or  two.  At  the  rear  door 
stood  three  saddle  horses,  tied,  and  ready  for  instant 
mounting.  The  arms  and  animals  were  provided 
for  the  escape  of  himself,  his  Mexican  servant — at 

that  moment  being  slain  by  the  plunderers,  in  a 
14 


162 


CALIFORNIA . 


corral  a few  rods  away — and  a mulatto  boy,  the 
servant  of  an  army  officer  at  San  Diego.  The  latter 
was  confined  in  the  house,  a helpless  victim  of  rheu- 
matism. He  had  been  sent  out  from  the  city  to  try 
the  water  of  some  notable  hot  springs  on  the  rancho, 
and  had  come  over  to  the  house  but  the  day  before. 

Springing  from  the  bed,  Colonel  Warner  ran, 
unarmed,  to  the  rear  door  of  the  house,  and  opened 
it,  to  ascertain  if  the  horses  were  yet  there.  The 
marauders,  about  two  hundred  in  number,  greeted 
him  with  a shower  of  arrows,  not  one  of  which  hit 
him,  fortunately. 

Stepping  quickly  to  the  table,  and  securing  one 
of  the  fowling-pieces,  he  returned  to  his  guests,  and 
found  to  his  dismay  that  two  of  the  horses  had 
been  removed,  and  that  an  Indian  was  in  the  act  of 
loosing  the  third.  The  gun  flashed,  and  the  plun- 
derer lay  on  the  ground  dead.  A second,  attempting 
to  take  the  animal,  fell  also.  Then  a third,  making 
the  effort,  was  mortally  wounded.  Thrown  into  a 
panic  by  these  casualties,  the  band  retreated  tem- 
porarily to  a shed  near  by,  bearing  the  bodies  of 
their  fallen  comrades. 

Resolved  now  to  attempt  an  escape  before  the 
Cowias  could  rally,  and  also  to  save  the  young 
invalid  in  his  care,  Colonel  Warner  quickly  placed 


A NOBLE  PIONEER. 


163 


the  boy  on  the  horse,  put  his  holster  pistols  in  the 
saddle,  his  belt  pistols  on  his  person,  laid  one  fowl- 
ing-piece across  the  neck  of  the  horse,  and  suspended 
another  at  the  animal’s  side.  Then  mounting  in 
front  of  the  youth  he  dashed  away,  the  foe  not 
interfering.  On  the  estate,  some  miles  distant,  lay 
a village  of  friendly  Indians,  where  were  the  head- 
quarters of  his  herdsmen.  Thither  rode  the  fugi- 
tives with  all  speed.  Immediately  thirty  trusted 
Indians  were  charged  with  conveying  the  invalid 
to  St.  Isabel,  for  care  and  safety,  and  the  herders 
were  dispatched  to  bring  in  the  stock.  Then,  ac- 
companied by  a number  of  his  own  Indian  depend- 
ents, Colonel  Warner  hastened  back  to  his  home. 
The  Cowias,  recovered  from  their  fright,  were  hur- 
riedly removing  from  the  premises  the  stock  of 
merchandise,  valued  at  about  six  thousand  dollars. 
They  now  showed  great  hostility,  terrifying  the 
man’s  small  escort  into  a prompt  retreat.  To  op- 
pose the  spoilers  single-handed,  was  to  meet  certain 
death.  The  Colonel,  therefore,  wheeled,  rode  away 
and  joined  his  family  in  San  Diego.  Upon  their 
return  they  were  attended  by  a considerable  mili- 
tary escort,  led  by  Major,  afterwards  General,  Hein- 
zelman.  This  rancho,  on  the  verge  of  the  desert, 
was  the  home  of  the  family  for  thirteen  years,  or 


164 


CALIFORNIA . 


until  1857,  when  Los  Angeles  once  more  became 
their  place  of  residence.  The  next  year  witnessed 
the  death  of  Mrs.  Warner. 

For  Mr.  Warner’s  bravery  in  saving  the  life  of 
the  colored  youth  at  the  risk  of  his  own,  he  received 
the  title  of  Colonel — from  his  friends  only,  I pre- 
sume. He  was  never  in  the  army. 

In  1858  Colonel  Warner  entered  journalistic 
life,  as  the  publisher  of  the  Southern  California  Vine- 
yard, a Democratic  sheet,  at  first  devoted  to  general 
news,  but  in  time  drifting  into  a strong  political 
paper.  But  when  the  Democratic  party  of  Cali- 
fornia took  position  in  favor  of  secession,  Colonel 
Warner  adhered  to  the  Union,  notwithstanding 
strong  party  effort  to  control  both  him  and  his 
paper.  As  was  to  be  expected,  loyalty  killed  the 
journal,  but  failed  to  kill  its  editor. 

The  Vineyard  breathed  its  last  in  1861.  For  five 
years  thereafter  Colonel  Warner  was  the  Southern 
California  correspondent  of  the  Alta  California . 

Previous  to  becoming  a knight  of  the  pen, 
he  served  the  public  in  several  responsible  civil 
positions.  For  the  sessions  of  ’51  and  ’52  he 
represented  San  Diego  County  in  the  Assembly  of 
California;  and  Los  Angeles  County  in  the  same 
body  in  1860.  He  was  once  elected  a judge  in  San 


A NOBLE  PIONEER. 


165 


Diego  County,  but  being  long  absent  in  San  Fran- 
cisco never  qualified,  and  never  served. 

A few  years  ago  Colonel  Warner  wrote  a series 
of  articles  on  methods  for  confining  the  Los  Angeles 
River  within  its  proper  channel  in  seasons  of  flood. 
These  papers  drew  attention  at  the  time  tor  their 
apparent  practicability.  But  with  the  deceptive 
stream  flowing  under  ground  half  the  time,  and 
seldom  troubling  any  body  very  much,  his  suggestions 
were  not  heeded.  But  the  suffering  and  loss  of  life 
and  property  caused  by  its  overflows  last  Winter, 
have  led  to  the  republication  and  serious  considera- 
tion of  these  articles. 

In  the  spring  of  1884  the  aged  pioneer  com- 
pleted a lengthy  paper  oil  “ The  Causes  of  the  Cold 
and  Warm  Ages  in  the  Arctic  Latitudes.”  His 
theory,  if  not  correct,  is  interesting,  and  reads  as 
follows : 

“At  one  time  in  the  world’s  history  the  Conti- 
nents of  North  and  South  America  were  not  as 
they  now  are,  united  by  the  Isthmus  of  Panama. 
All  Central  America  then  lay  beneath  the  ocean. 
Behring’s  Strait,  instead  of  being  a narrow  passage 
of  water,  was  a broad  sea,  connecting  the  Pacific 
and  Arctic  Oceans.  No  warm  Gulf  Stream  flowed 
northward  along  the  eastern  coast  of  North  Amer- 


166 


CALIFORNIA . 


ica,  and  across  the  Atlantic  to  the  British  coast. 
But  an  equatorial  warm  stream  of  vast  proportions 
flowed  from  the  Atlantic  into  the  Pacific  Ocean, 
over  submerged  Central  America,  and  on  north- 
westwardly to  the  north-eastern  coast  of  Asia, 
where,  pouring  through  Behring’s  Strait  into  the 
Polar  Ocean,  it  converted  it  into  a vast  thermal 
sea,  on  whose  shores  flourished  a tropical  vegeta- 
tion. Ages  passed  away,  and  Behring’s  Strait  be- 
came very  nearly  closed  by  volcanic  upheaval, 
greatly  restricting  the  flow  of  warm  water  into  the 
Northern  Ocean.  Arctic  temperature  was  the 
result  in  those  high  latitudes.  Meanwhile  Central 
America  had  appeared  above  the  ocean,  sending  the 
equatorial  warm  current  northward  along  the  east- 
ern coast  of  North  America,  and  forming  the  ‘Gulf 
Stream’  of  to-day.” 

In  the  neighborhood  of  forty  years  ago  this 
patriarch  paid  his  first  and,  up  to  the  present,  only 
visit  to  his  native  State.  His  route  was  a devious 
one,  taking  him  from  Los  Angeles  to  San  Pedro, 
thence  to  Acapulco  by  water,  and  from  there  across 
Mexico  to  Vera  Cruz,  whence  he  went  by  sail  to 
Mobile,  and  thence  on  to  the  land  of  steady  habits. 
While  in  the  East  he  delivered  several  addresses 
on  California.  In  the  city  of  Rochester,  1841,  he 


A NOBLE  PIONEER. 


167 


discussed  the  question  of  a trans-continental  railway, 
remarking:  “ Should  I ever  come  East  again,  I shall 
come  in  a railway  car.”  That  discussion  gives 
Colonel  Warner,  instead  of  Stephen  H.  Whitney, 
as  has  been  claimed  for  him,  the  honor  of  being  the 
first  man  to  propose  a thoroughfare  of  steel  across 
the  continent  of  America. 

A Los  Angeles  paper,  speaking  on  this  point 
this  morning,  says:  “ Mr.  Whitney  took  up  the 
suggestion  and  talking  upon  it,  gained  much  eclat 
in  the  East  for  the  boldness  of  the  idea,  while  Col- 
onel Warner,  returning  to  California,  lost  all  credit 
for  it.  The  honor  should  certainly  be  awarded  to 
our  esteemed  fellow-citizen.  It  seems  to  us,”  the 
sheet  continues,  “ that  the  continental  railway  lines, 
even  at  this  late  day,  should  deem  it  an  honor  to 
transport,  in  the  most  luxurious  Pullman  car,  the 
venerable  gentleman,  who,  with  profound  foresight, 
nearly  a half  a century  ago,  first  proposed  a railway 
across  the  American  continent.” 

It  may  interest  the  reader  to  know  that  the 
great  railways  did,  in  June,  after  this  sketch  was 
written,  convey  Colonel  Warner  and  the  young 
lady — a grandchild — who  attended  him,  twice  across 
the  continent.  In  an  absence  of  several  months  in 
the  East,  the  happy  pioneer  visited  the  home  of 


168 


CALIFORNIA . 


Chief  Justice  Waite,  in  Washington;  was  received 
with  marked  respect  by  President  Arthur,  and  took 
a look  through  all  the  grand  government  buildings. 
Proceeding  to  New  England,  he  renewed  his  ac- 
quaintance with  the  scenes  and  surviving  friends  of 
his  youth,  and,  going  or  returning,  passed  some 
time,  in  a delightful  way,  among  his  relatives  in 
and  around  Cleveland,  Ohio ; and,  as  he  said  to  the 
writer  after  his  return,  “ was  everywhere  treated 
like  a prince.” 

Colonel  Warner  now  resides  with  a married 
daughter  on  Main  Street,  in  Los  Angeles,  in  an 
old-time  adobe  home,  with  its  only  entrance  at  the 
rear  of  the  building.  Unfortunately,  since  making 
his  last  eastern  trip,  he  has  almost  wholly  lost 
his  sight.  “ I can  not  see  you,”  he  said,  meeting  me 
on  my  return  to  Los  Angeles,  after  an  absence  of 
two  years,  “but  I remember  your  voice.”  His 
mental  faculties,  on  the  other  hand,  are  perfectly 
preserved.  He  was  that  day  serving  as  a delegate 
to  a county  political  convention,  held  in  the  city. 
The  man  is  over  six  feet  in  height,  slender,  quite 
erect.  His  white  hair  stands  out  from  his  head  in 
all  directions.  As  to  the  matters  of  his  own  life 
he  is  modest  and  reticent,  though  most  of  the  facts 
given  in  this  sketch  were  obtained  from  his  own 


A NOBLE  PIONEER. 


169 


lips.  He  is  a perfect  encyclopedia  of  information 
on  a host  of  subjects.  He  readily  recalls  the  lead- 
ing events  in  the  history  of  California  for  a half- 
century  past,  with  their  exact  dates;  and  also  the 
career  of  many  of  its  prominent  men.  He  is  oblig- 
ing, at  great  cost  to  himself  many  times.  I 
frequently  had  occasion,  during  my  residence  here, 
to  call  upon  him  for  information  on  some  subject. 
Every  time  he  was  the  same  patient,  courteous,  self- 
forgetting  gentleman. 


XXI. 


(©OLOUIZAJFION  SCHEMES. 


IN  no  part  of  the  United  States,  certainly,  and, 
perhaps,  nowhere  in  the  world/  has  the  subject 
of  colonization  received  more  earnest  and  more  in- 
telligent consideration  than  has  been  given  it  in 
Southern  California  during  the  past  six  years.  The 
most  enterprising  of  men  have  devoted  time, 
strength,  ability,  and  fortunes  to  devising  schemes 
for  settling  this  part  of  the  coast  rapidly  and  well. 
There  was,  the  moment  the  Southern  Pacific  Road 
was  completed,  and  still  is,  ground  for  pushing  and 
developing  this  sort  of  business.  Lying  on  this 
coast,  seven  years  ago,  with  a climate  nowhere  on 
earth  surpassed,  was  a vast  area  of  country  almost 
literally  without  house  or  inhabitant.  Of  course 
I know  there  were  villages  here,  and  ranchos,  with 
houses  upon  them,  but  that  does  not  weaken  the 
statement  I have  made.  On  account  of  the  pro- 
ductiveness of  the  soil,  this  area  was  fitted  to 

become  the  home  of  millions  of  people.  Most  of 
170 


COLONIZATION  SCHEMES. 


171 


it  could  be  given  to  the  plow  almost  without  cutting 
down  a tree  or  removing  a stone,  but  it  was  land 
asleep.  During  the  past  week  I have  ridden  over 
thousands  of  acres  which  the  implements  of  hus- 
bandry have  never  touched.  Under  its  covering  of 
thickly  blooming  flowers — white,  pink,  blue,  purple, 
and  yellow,  all  tiny  but  beautiful  things — are  con- 
cealed possibilities  of  production,  so  great  that  I 
dare  not  express  the  facts  in  the  case,  lest  the 
reader’s  incredulity  shall  break  out  in  words  I 
should  not  care  to.  hear. 

To  bring  these  acres  under  cultivation,  and 
bring  human  beings  to  the  enjoyment  of  their  pro- 
ducts and  the  benefits  of  the  delightful  climate,  as 
well  as  to  contribute  to  the  resources  of  the  coun- 
try, while  increasing  their  individual  fortunes,  are 
the  chief  objects  sought  by  the  men  engaged  in 
the  numerous  colonization  enterprises. 

The  subject  of  colonization  has  at  least  two  sides. 
It  will  readily  be  conceded  that  all  the  benefits  of 
the  scheme  ought  not  to  accrue  to  the  families  who 
settle  on  colony  sites,  finding  ready  to  their  hand, 
the  moment  they  arrive  on  the  ground,  systems  of 
water,  of  light,  and  of  education,  together  with 
church  privileges,  a dry-goods  store,  a grocery,  a 
doctor,  a newspaper,  and,  in  many  instances,  a taste- 


172 


CALIFORNIA. 


ful  new  dwelling  ready  for  their  occupancy.  It  is  ex- 
pected, or  should  be,  that  the  two,  ten,  or  twenty 
men  who  purchase  a large  tract  of  land  in  a favor- 
able location;  lay  it  off*  in  lots  and  parcels;  plant 
upon  it  trees  by  the  thousand,  for  shade  and  fruit; 
conduct  to  all  parts  of  it  an  unfailing  supply  of 
pure  soft  water  from  some  river  or  mountain  spring, 
miles  distant;  build  a hotel;  erect  a church  and 
a school-house;  secure  postal  facilities;  arrange  for 
telephonic  and  telegraphic  communication  with  the 
outside  world;  work  early  and  late,  and  hard,  to  in- 
terest people  in  what  they  are  doing;  and  lastly, 
worry  until  health  declines,  lest  after  all,  the  venture 
may  fail,  will  reap  something  of  a harvest  from  the 
one  or  two  hundred  thousand  dollars  sown  in  all 
these  improvements. 

There  are  in  Southern  California  a score,  prob- 
ably, of  prosperous  colonies.  Some  of  them  have 
expanded  into  beautiful  towns  and  strengthened  into 
extensive  fruit-growing  communities.  In  a preced- 
ing chapter  I have  referred  to  a cluster  of  such 
settlements,  all  lying  south-east  of  Los  Angeles,  in 
the  Santa  Ana  Valley.  But  on  the  through  line  of 
the  Southern  Pacific  Railway,  east  of  the  city  and 
within  a distance  of  seventy  miles,  has  been  planted 
another  series  of  such  colonies.  It  will  do  the 


COLONIZATION  SCHEMES. 


173 


reader  who  has  never  seen  California  good  to  read 
about  them. 

Last  Thursday  afternoon,  at  four  o’clock,  the 
through  eastern  train  on  the  above  road  pulled  out 
from  the  depot  in  Los  Angeles  with  the  writer  on 
board,  wound  through  a dusty  street  or  two,  then 
turned  squarely  away  from  the  sunset,  swept  across 
the  nearly  dry  bed  of  the  Los  Angeles  River,  and 
struck  out  for  the  great  Colorado  Desert.  On  our 
left  until  long  after  sunset,  the  purple  Sierra  Madres 
were  in  full  view  from  the  car  windows,  while  short 
spurs  and  ranges,  named  for  the  whole  catalogue  of 
saints,  shot  out  into  the  plain,  over  which  we  were 
speeding,  in  every  direction.  For  the  first  two  or 
three  miles  out  the  traveler  sees  nothing  attractive, 
except  a few  vineyards  and  young  orange  orchards, 
with  occasional  residences  planted  on  the  hills 
around. 

The  first  halt  is  at  Alhambra,  which  suggests 
Washington  Irving  and  Old  Spain,  but  which  con- 
sists of  little  more  than  a fine  hotel,  set  away  on  a 
sightly  hill-top  under  the  Sierra  Madre.  Running 
on  some  miles  the  train  stopped  in  front  of  the  ancient 
church  of  the  San  Gabriel  Mission,  eleven  and  a half 
miles  from  the  city.  Here  stood  this  somewhat 
unique  structure  when  Los  Angeles  was  founded,  one 


174 


CALIFORNIA. 


hundred  years  ago.  All  around  it  lies  the  rich  and 
highly  cultivated  San  Gabriel  Valley,  verdant  with 
all  kinds  of  fruit  orchards,  and  as  fragrant  with  flow- 
ers as  Ignatius  Donnelly  claims  were  the  fair  plains 
of  the  submerged  island  of  Atlantis.  It  was  the  floral 
copy  of  this  church  which  formed  so  notable  a 
feature  of  the  San  Gabriel  exhibit  at  the  brilliant 
flower  festival  held  in  Los  Angeles  last  May. 

Next  on  the  list  is  the  incipient  town  of  La 
Puente,  which  recalls  to  mind  the  fact  that  the  La 
Puente  Rancho  in  this  vicinity,  is  a tract  of  land 
deemed  exceedingly  rich  in  petroleum  deposit.  Some 
six  years  ago — 1880,  I think — two  indomitable 
Canadian  gentlemen,  the  Messrs.  George  and  Will- 
iam Chaffey,  founders  of  the  flourishing  colony  of 
Ontario,  where  our  train  will  soon  arrive,  were 
engaged,  with  some  others,  in  developing  this  source 
of  wealth  here.  About  that  time  Mr.  Burdette 
Chandler,  a gentleman  familiar  with  coal-oil  mining 
in  Pennsylvania,  began  boring  for  oil  on  this  ranch. 
At  a depth  of  one  hundred  and  fifty  feet  he  obtained 
in  paying  quantities  a grade  of  oil  similar  to  the 
West  Virginia  lubricating  oil.  Three  wells  were 
put  down  to  a depth  varying  from  one  hundred  and 
fifty  to  five  hundred  feet.  Each  well,  produced  fif- 
teen barrels  per  day  at  the  outset.  About  this  time 


COLONIZATION  SCHEMES. 


175 


was  organized  the  Chandler  Oil  Company,  for  the 
purpose  of  developing  the  petroleum  on  this  ranch. 
Other  wells  were  then  sunk,  with  flattering  results; 
also  a refinery  was  erected  for  distilling  the  oil.  In 
the  “ Annual  Report  of  the  Los  Angeles  Board  of 
Trade  ” for  1886,  I notice  that  coal-oil  is  mentioned 
as  one  of  the  most  promising  resources  of  Los  An- 
geles County.  It  is  well  known  that  the  county 
abounds  with  oil  springs,  asphaltum  beds,  and  mines 
of  brea. 

The  celebrated  Brea  Rancho,  situated  some 
eight  or  nine  miles  north-west  of  Los  Angeles,  af- 
fords a splendid  example  of  the  bituminous  deposit 
of  the  region.  Originally  this  was  a large  and  val- 
uable estate,  whose  proprietor,  becoming  pecuniarily 
involved,  mortgaged  portions  of  it  to  enable  him  to 
meet  his  obligations.  But  before  the  debts  were 
liquidated  death  released  him  from  his  burdens, 
transferring  them  to  the  shoulders  of  his  widow. 
She  bravely  faced  the  responsibility,  sold  enough  of 
the  estate  to  cancel  the  mortgages,  and  then  began 
mining  the  brea  as  a source  of  incorqe  for  herself, 
reducing  it  on  the  estate,  to  a form  convenient  for 
making  cement  pavement  for  streets.  The  whole 
was  a piece  of  good  management,  and  the  lady  now 
finds  herself  on  the  road  to  independence.  Five 


176 


CALIFORNIA. 


hundred  acres  of  this  property  are  the  possession  of 
ex-Senator  Cornelius  Cole,  of  California,  appointed 
some  years  ago  to  settle  the  claims  of  the  Pacific 
Coast  creditors  in  the  notorious  Alabama  case. 

But  while  we  have  been  talking  about  coal-oil 
the  train  has  run  on  to  Pomona,  an  enterprising 
village  thirty-three  miles  from  the  city,  and  the 
spot,  of  all  others  in  Southern  California,  on  which 
the  Goddess  of  Fruits  should  shower  her  favors, 
since  it  bears  her  name.  The  place  has  existed  but 
a few  years,  and  has  a population  of  twenty-five 
hundred  people  probably.  Being  a part  of  the  great 
plain  which  slopes  southward  from  the  base  of  the 
Sierra  Madre,  its  soil  is  inexhaustibly  fertile,  and 
its  climate  almost  faultless.  Groves  of  semi-tropical 
fruits  flourish  on  all  sides.  A perennial  supply  of 
pure  water  is  furnished  by  a stream  which  breaks 
from  the  mountains  back  of  it.  That  the  place  has 
schools,  churches,  and  other  facilities  for  the  im- 
provement of  the  citizens,  goes  without  saying.  For 
years  to  come,  Pomona  will  be  associated  with  the 
name  of  that  admirable  Christian  man,  Rev.  C.  T. 
Mills,  who,  with  his  capable  wife,  founded  Mills 
Seminary  near  Oakland,  California,  a number  of 
years  ago.  At  one  time  Dr.  Mills  represented  a 
large  interest  in  the  land  on  which  this  village 


COLONIZATION  SCHEMES. 


177 


stands,  and  his  wise  assistance  in  the  development 
of  the  colony  insured  the  gratifying  progress  we 
now  see.  While  here  attending  to  its  interests, 
one  dav,  he  met  with  the  accident  that  cost  him 
his  life.  Being  thrown  from  his  carriage,  he  re- 
ceived an  injury  to  one  of  his  arms  which  resulted 
in  amputation,  and  subsequently  in  death.  Thus 
was  Mrs.  Mills,  assisted  by  a board  of  trustees,  left 
the  sole  head  of  the  institution,  and  also  an  impor- 
tant member  of  the  Pomona  Land  Company.  Dr. 
Mills,  who  was  for  some  years  president  of  Batti- 
eotta  Theological  Seminary,  India,  and  also  of  Oahu 
College  for  Young  Men  in  Honolulu,  had  the 
respect  and  friendship  of  many  prominent  people  in 
this  country. 

Four  miles  further  eastward,  the  train  halts  in 
front  of  the  trim  little  station-house  at  Ontario. 
The  tasteful  building,  with  its  surrounding  of  gay 
flowers  and  borderings  of  bright  color,  looks  more 
like  a summer-house  on  some  gentleman’s  estate, 
than  like  a temporary  shelter  for  passengers,  and 
the  business  office  of  the  railway.  The  place  takes 
its  name  from  Ontario,  Canada,  where  its  founders, 
the  Chaffey  brothers,  spent  their  youth.  Their 
father  was  once  the  owner  of  large  shipping  inter- 
ests in  the  old  Canadian  city,  and  established  quite 


178 


CALIFORNIA . 


a commerce  with  certain  American  towns.  As  the 
train  draws  up,  passengers  on  the  village  side  of  the 
cars  exclaim : “ What  a pretty  place  !”  But  I hap- 
pen to  know  that  a little  over  four  years  ago  not  one 
building,  and  but  a single  tree,  relieved  the  thou- 
sand desolate  acres  now  changed  into  this  pleasant 
scene.  Less  than  three  years  since,  I visited  the 
place  for  the  purpose  of  studying  the  practical 
workings  of  colonization  schemes.  The  town  was 
then  undergoing  wide  advertising  as  “ the  model 
colony”  of  Southern  California,  and  was  a place  df 
great  interest  for  many  reasons,  but  the  reader  will 
be  most  concerned  in  its  present  situation. 

Ontario  lies  in  San  Bernardino  County,  the 
largest  county  in  the  State  (having  an  area  of  ten 
million  acres),  is  thirty-eight  miles  east  of  Los  An- 
geles, and  is  a part  of  the  territory  known  as  the 
“warm  belt,”  a strip  of  country  from  eight  to  ten 
miles  wide,  which  skirts,  for  a distance  of  seventy 
miles,  from  west  to  east,  the  base  of  the  Sierra 
Madre  Mountains,  and  includes  all  the  thriving 
towns  between  Pasadena  and  the  San  Gorgonio 
Pass.  This  district  is  seldom  visited  by  frosts, 
never  by  severe  ones.  It  may  be  irrigated  in  every 
part  by  water  from  the  rivers  which  traverse  it 
from  north  to  south,  or  from  mountain  springs  and 


COLONIZA  TION  SCHEMES. 


179 


torrents.  It  is  therefore  admirably  adapted  to  the 
culture  of  both  northern  and  semi-tropical  fruits. 

Ontario  may  also  be  said  to  lie  in  what  is  termed 
the  Upper  Santa  Ana  Valley,  between  two  lofty 
ranges  of  mountains,  the  Sierra  Madre,  ten  miles 
away  on  the  north,  the  Temescal,  fifteen  miles  dis- 
tant on  the  south.  In  every  direction  the  view  from 
the  place  is  very  fine.  The  town  plat  is  a part  of 
a tract  of  ten  thousand  acres  to  be  devoted  to  the 
colony.  Purer  air  can  nowhere  be  breathed. 
Through  the  center  of  the  tract,  from  the  railway 
to  the  nearer  mountains,  stretches  a beautiful  ave- 
nue, seven  miles  long,  two  hundred  feet  wide,  as 
straight  as  surveyor’s  chain  could  make  it,  with  an 
ascending  grade  toward  the  Sierra  of  one  thousand 
feet.  Through  the  middle  of  this  avenue  was  orig- 
inally allotted  a space  forty  feet  wide  for  a double 
line  of  cable  railway  to  be  operated  by  water.  But 
as  the  cars  stopped  opposite  the  magnificent  thor- 
oughfare, a passenger  remarked: 

“ The  Ontario  Land  Company  is  about  to  lay 
the  rails  for  an  electric  road  up  one  of  those  drives 
to  the  mountains,  and  thence  around  to  the  mouth 
of  the  famous  San  Antonio  canon.” 

Planted  on  both  sides  of  this  fortv  feet  is  a 
row  of  fan  palms,  alternating  with  the  eucalyptus, 


180 


CALIFORNIA . 


or  the  pepper  tree.  Both  the  latter  are  rapid 
growers,  and  are  set  to  secure  temporary  shade  and 
tree  effects  until  the  palms  make  a display,  when 
they  will  be  removed.  The  imposing  effect  of  this 
double  row  of  the  fan  palm,  when  sufficiently 
grown,  must  be  seen  to  be  appreciated.  Again,  on 
either  side  of  this  central  way,  extends  a carriage 
drive,  sixty-five  feet  wide,  very  smooth,  never 
dusty,  and  lined,  next  the  sidewalk,  by  a row  of 
grevillia  and  pepper  trees,  with  the  eucalyptus  inter- 
spersed. The  grevillia  is  a handsome  tree,  ever- 
green, with  bushy,  spreading  crown,  and  general 
appearance  like  that  of  the  pepper  tree,  over  which, 
however,  it  has  the  advantage  of  preserving  a 
smooth,  clean  trunk  in  old  age.  Finally,  fifteen  feet 
are  reserved  on  both  sides  this  avenue  for  side- 
walks and  external  parks  of  flowers.  Many  of  the 
lots  fronting  upon  this  street  have  been  fenced  with 
a hedge  of  the  Monterey  cypress.  Should  this 
hedge  be  continued  to  the  mountains,  there  will  ap- 
pear two  low,  trim  lines  of  vivid  green,  seven  miles 
long,  doing  away  with  unpicturesque  fencings  of 
wood  and  iron.  Now  imagine  this  broad  roadway 
embellished  with  six  rows  of  varied  and  fadeless 
green,  the  whole  flanked  with  a wealth  of  beautiful 
bloom.  Think  of  a drive  at  early  morning,  or 


COLONIZATION  SCHEMES. 


181 


after  tea,  up  this  smooth  ascent,  with  the  Sierra 
rising  right  before  one  and  a health-giving  breeze 
fanning  the  cheek.  I myself  rode  over  it  when  all 
this  charm  of  vegetation  was  at  the  starting  point,  be- 
fore the  grade  was  established  quite  to  the  mountains. 
It  was  a delightful  ride.  But  with  all  this  orna- 
mentation at  maturity,  there  will  be  not  another 
such  street  in  California,  unless  a rival  be  found  in 
Magnolia  Avenue,  at  Riverside,  of  which  we  shall 
have  a word  to  say  further  on ; nor  on  the  conti- 
nent, except  it  be  Euclid  Avenue,  in  Cleveland, 
Ohio,  whose  name  it  borrows.  The  Ontario  Euclid 
embraces  one  hundred  and  eighty  acres  of  land,  and 
is  adorned  with  something  like  seventy  thousand 
trees,  and  is  twice  the  width  of  Cleveland’s  beau- 
tiful street. 

At  the  time  of  my  first  visit,  eighteen  months 
after  the  ground  was  broken,  seventy  families  were 
settled  upon  the  tract;  a public  school  was  in  pro- 
gress ; postal  and  telegraph  facilities  had  been 
secured  ; a commodious  hotel  had  been  erected,  and 
the  varied  work  of  laying  off  lots,  grading  streets, 
putting  down  water-pipes,  tunneling  the  mountains 
for  unfailing  water,  setting  vines  for  raisins,  and 
planting  a great  variety  of  fruit  trees, < was  going 
on  with  a will,  besides  building  for  this  purpose 


182 


CALIFORNIA. 


and  for  that.  Two  years  have  passed  since  that 
day,  changing  the  scene  wondrously.  How  so  much 
could  have  been  done  in  so  little  time  is  a marvel. 

The  soil  of  this  warm  belt  is  a sandy,  gravelly 
loam,  lying  gently  inclined  to  the  southern  and 
western  sun,  and  is  easily  worked.  Dense  fogs,  a 
serious  hindrance  in  some  localities  to  the  curing 
of  raisins,  are  said  to  visit  Ontario  too  seldom  to  be 
taken  into  account. 

It  should  now  be  said  that  the  interests  of  the 
colony  have  passed  from  the  hands  of  its  founders. 
Some  months  ago  a gentleman  representing  an 
Australian  colonization  company  arrived  in  Los 
Angeles  for  the  purpose  of  investigating  the  coloniza- 
tion schemes  of  Southern  California.  The  fame  of 
Ontario  had  reached  his  ears.  He  paid  the  place  a 
visit.  The  plan  of  these  brothers  commended 
itself  to  his  judgment.  He  conferred  with  them  as 
to  the  feasibility  of  undertaking  a similar  enter- 
prise on  land  near  the  city  of  Melbourne.  The  re-, 
suit  was  a proposition  to  the  Messrs.  Chaffey  to 
transplant  a colony  of  English  people  from  the 
mother  country  to  the  Fifth  Continent.  Mr.  George 
Chaffey  soon  sailed  for  Australia  to  look  the 
field  over.  A grant  of  twenty-five  thousand  acres 
of  land  was  offered  him  for  the  project.  He 


CO  LON JZ  A TION  SCHEMES. 


183 


accepted  it,  and  decided  to  sell  his  interests  in  Ontario 
and  remove  his  family  to  Melbourne.  Returning 
to  America  he  soon  accomplished  these  steps,  and 
is  now  domiciled  in  the  far-off  land  with  his  wife 
and  children.  Mr.  William  Chaffey  and  his  family, 
it  is  understood,  follow  at  a later  day.  This  gen- 
tleman is  also  known  as  having  been  active  a few 
years  earlier  in  adorning  that  section  of  the  town 
of  Riverside  called  Arlington.  These  young  men 
seem  to  possess  a genius  for  taking  the  virgin  soil 
and  building  up  towns  upon  it.  Their  success  at 
both  Ontario  and  Etiwanda,  Mr.  George  Chaffey’s 
place  of  residence,  is  strong  evidence  to  that  effect. 
I have  it  from  a personal  friend  of  this  man,  that 
when  he  arrived  in  Los  Angeles,  less  than  five  years 
ago,  “the  sum  of  his  wealth  was  four  dollars.”  If 
that  be  true,  Ontario,  made  to  spring  out  of  the 
naked  mesa  in  the  space  of  four  years,  with  all  its 
present  beauty,  homes,  and  business,  proves  what 
wonders  can  be  accomplished  by  sheer  courage, 
energy,  and  industry,  linked  with  a taste  for  educa- 
tion, and  a reverence  for  God  and  religion. 

A feature  of  special  importance  at  Ontario  is  the 
noble  San  Antonio  canon.  From  the  head  of  Euclid 
Avenue  a carriage  road  winds  off  to  the  left,  among 
the  few  low  foot-hills  of  the  Sierra  Madre.  After 


184 


CALIFORNIA . 


several  hundred  rods  of  distance,  it  turns  and  enters 
the  rock-strown  mouth  of  this  grand  gorge,  pen- 
etrating the  Sierra  not  less  than  nine  miles.  Down 
this  wild  passage  flows  the  clear,  cold,  roaring, 
tumbling  stream,  which  gives  the  colony  its  splen- 
did drinking  water.  Speckled  trout  abound  in  it, 
as  do  quail  among  the  foot-hills  and  loftier  heights, 
making  the  place  a paradise  for  the  angler  and 
the  hunter.  But  the  place  has  higher  recommen- 
dations than  its  fine  scenery  and  myriad  life  in  air 
and  water.  It  is  an  Eden  for  sufferers  from  asthma 
and  rheumatism.  Relief  from  these  troubles  has 
been,  almost  immediate  in  some  cases,  at  the  en- 
trance to  this  canon.  A well-known  physician  of 
Chicago  relates  that  a severe  case  of  asthma  was 
greatly  mitigated  after  one  hour  spent  here,  and  a 
trying  case  of  sciatic  rheumatism  yielded  after  a 
a two  weeks’  sojourn. 

In  a tent  pitched  on  a grassy  plot,  among  some 
trees,  at  the  opening  to  this  gorge,  there  lived  in 
1884  a gentleman  from  San  Francisco,  who  had 
long  been  afflicted  with  asthma  of  a terrible  type. 
So  long  as  he  remained  in  the  canon  his  enemy  let 
him  alone,  but  the  moment  he  ventured  into  Los 
Angeles  for  twenty-four  hours,  the  disease  attacked 
him  so  fiercely  that  he  was  glad  to  hasten  back  to 


COLONIZATION  SCHEMES . 


185 


his  retreat  under  the  shadow  of  the  everlasting  hills. 
He  pronounces  the  spot  the  best  for  his  malady  he 
has  ever  found. 

Nor  is  the  resort  without  attractions  for  well 
people.  Numbers  visit  the  locality  every  year  for 
refreshment.  Business  men  jaded  with  care  and 
anxiety  find  new  strength  beside  its  merry  stream. 
Romping  among  the  granite  bowlders,  pining  chil- 
dren become  hardy  as  little  bears.  And  such  an 
appetite  as  people  get!  The  most  provident  cook 
would  be  taxed  to  meet  its  demands.  Some  three 
years  ago  Mr.  William  Chaffey,  worn  with  the  bur- 
den of  Ontario  affairs,  removed  his  wife  and  chil- 
dren to  the  canon  and  camped  for  several  weeks. 
Speaking  of  that  time,  he  told  me  that  when  ready 
to  return  to  his  home  he  felt  strong  enough  to  found 
another  colony.  A fair  road  extends  up  the  deep 
rent  in  the  mountains  for  a distance  of  some  miles. 
Mount  Baldy,  the  regal,  snow-capped  summit  men- 
tioned in  an  early  chapter  of  this  book,  stands  at  its 
head,  eight  miles  from  the  mouth,  and  sixteen  from 
Ontario  and  the  Southern  Pacific  road.  The  monarch 
is  worthy  a visit.  Its  height  is  nine  thousand  feet. 

In  all  this  ten  thousand  acres  of  inclined  plane 
there  is  not  an  acre  of  marsh  or  fen ; not  a rod  over 

which  malaria  dare  hover;  scarcely  a foot  which  the 

16 


186 


CALIFORNIA . 


health-giving  sunshine  does  not  bless.  A thick  fog 
rarely  finds  its  way  this  distance  from  the  sea. 
Sometimes  a thin  vapor  floats  over  the  tract  just 
before  morning,  but  even  that  vanishes  soon  after 
breakfast.  About  two  o’clock,  as  sure  as  the  after- 
noon comes,  a refreshing  breeze  springs  up  and  con- 
tinues until  sunset.  The  average  temperature  of  the 
Summer  days  is  eighty  degrees.  The  evenings  are 
cool.  Warm  wraps  are  then  necessary. 


XXII. 

UlNEYAF^DS  AND  ORANGE  GLOVES, 


IN  Southern  California  all  distances  are  measured 
from  Los  Angeles.  I mention,  therefore,  that 
Riverside,  with  its  beautiful  suburb,  Arlington — I 
am  not  sure  but  that  I should  say  Arlington,  with 
its  less  attractive  suburb,  Riverside — is  located 
sixty-eight  miles  south-east  of  that  city,  and  seven 
miles  south  of  the  Southern  Pacific  Railway.  I 
entered  the  place  in  an  open,  high-seated,  square- 
topped  “stage,”  having  left  the  train  at  Colton,  nine 
miles  distant.  The  vehicle  tossed  its  load  of  six 
passengers  about  in  a merciless  fashion,  but  afforded 
us  a fine  view  of  the  hills  and  valleys  at  every  turn. 
Along  most  of  our  course  wild  flowers  covered  the 
ground  as  with  a carpet.  There  were  millions  upon 
millions  of  the  tiny  things,  exquisite  in  coloring, 
dainty  in  shape. 

Every  feature  and  aspect  of  Riverside  is  rural. 
A day’s  ride  through  the  State  of  Ohio  by  rail,  in 
any  direction,  would  reveal  twenty  such  villages, 
omitting  the  vineyards,  orange  groves,  cypress 

hedges,  eucalypti,  and  fan  palms  of  Riverside. 

187 


188 


CALIFORNIA . 


“That  sounds  like  omitting  a great  deal,”  says 
the  reader.  It  is. 

The  whole  vicinity  of  Riverside  and  Arlington 
furnishes  indubitable  evidence  that  somebody  works 
in  the  valley.  Yet  during  a drive  of  eight  miles 
yesterday  afternoon  past  an  almost  unbroken  suc- 
cession of  orange  groves  and  vineyards,  I actually 
saw  only  three  men  engaged  in  their  cultivation. 
The  grounds  and  trees  were  faultlessly  clean.  The 
leaves  of  the  orange  trees  looked  as  if  they  had 
been  subjected  to  an  application  of  polishing  pow- 
der, so  glossy  and  bright  were  they.  Probably  the 
secret  of  all  this  tidiness,  was,  that  the  golden  fruit 
had  been  gathered  by  the  shippers,  and  any  trim- 
ming the  trees  required  after  that,  had  been  done 
and  the  ground  carefully  raked.  The  vines  like- 
wise had  had  their  pruning  and  were  growing  finely. 
Thus  was  the  Spring  work  of  the  horticulturists 
“done  up, ” just  as  housekeepers  do  up  their  Spring 
cleaning.  The  extreme  neatness  of  some  of  the 
orchards  added  immensely  to  their  attractions.  I 
had  visited  fine  orange  orchards  in  Florida,  but 
never  had  I seen  a sight  to  compare  with  these 
miles  upon  miles  of  glistening  trees.  From  the 
road  to  far  back  in  the  distance  stretched  the  diag- 
onal rows  as  straight  as  hand  of  man  could  set  them. 


VINEYARDS  AND  ORANGE  GROVES.  189 


To  have  stopped  a few  moments  here  and  there,  sim- 
ply to  look  at  them,  would  have  been  a satisfaction, 
but  I was  taking  a hurried  drive  and  could  not  tarry. 

In  1884  Riverside  had  the  largest  acreage  of 
vines  and  trees  of  any  of  the  colonies  giving  atten- 
tion to  orange  and  raisin  culture  south  of  the  Sierra 
Madre.  Yet  no  farther  back  than  1870,  this  valley, 
now  so  smiling  and  yielding  such  lavish  returns  to 
its  cultivators,  was  but  a silent  waste,  mantled  in 
Spring-time  with  gay  flowers  and  tall  wild  grasses. 
The  soil  is  composed  largely  of  disintegrated  rock, 
washed  from  the  surrounding  mountains  by  the 
storms  of  ages,  and  possesses  almost  boundless  pow- 
ers of  production.  But  these  powers  were  dormant. 
Something  was  needed  to  arouse  them,  and  that 
something  was  simply  the  voice  of  running  water. 
The  making  this  discovery  has  changed  the  face  of 
Nature  all  over  this  section  of  our  country.  There 
was  more  sense  in  General  Fremont’s  idea  of  flood- 
ing the  Colorado  Desert,  or  portions  of  it,  in  order 
to  render  it  productive,  than  he  has  ever  had  credit 
for.  He  has  been  laughed  at  for  his  supposed  want 
of  sense  in  even  thinking  of  so  shallow  a project. 
Yet  experiment  has  proved  that  water  is  the  one 
thing  necessary  to  convert  miles  of  those  arid 
stretches  into  fruitful  gardens. 


190 


CALIFORNIA . 


In  September  of  1870  the  Southern  California 
Colony  Association  was  formed  for  the  purpose 
of  buying  and  selling  lands,  and  of  appropri- 
ating the  water  of  the  Santa  Ana  River  to  the 
irrigation  of  sixteen  townships.  The  next  year,  in 
June,  a canal  was  finished  to  the  hamlet  now  called 
Riverside.  Then  began  the  experiments  in  irriga- 
tion. Wonderful  mutation!  Then,  the  barren  land. 
To-day,  fruit,  bloom,  and  beauty  everywhere,  with 
fortunes  making  and  fortunes  promised,  all  out  of 
the  once  somnolent  soil. 

In  the  chapter  on  Ontario  reference  was  made 
to  Magnolia  Avenue,  in  Arlington,  which  is  but  an 
extension  of  Riverside,  and  contains  many  pretty 
streets  and  handsome  homes,  Riverside  being  the 
business  portion  of  the  place.  It  includes  the 
hotels,  stores,  newspaper  offices,  and  all  kinds  of 
shops.  But  Arlington’s  street,  par  excellence , is 
Magnolia  Avenue,  consisting  of  a double  driveway, 
each  lined  on  both  sides  by  a row  of  pepper,  eucalyp- 
tus, fan-palm,  and  grevillia  trees,  alternating  in 
places.  The  appearance  of  the  street  is  magnificent. 
The  effect  is  produced  mainly  by  the  two  passage- 
ways and  the  several  lines  of  trees,  intensified  by 
the  presence  of  the  palms,  and  by  plats  of  brilliant 
flowers  blooming  between  the  curb-stone  and  side- 


1 


VINEYARDS  AND  ORANGE  GROVES.  191 

walk  in  front  of  some  of  the  residences.  Merely 
as  a street  Magnolia  Avenue  far  transcends  the 
world-renowned  Euclid  Avenue  in  Cleveland.  But 
the  moment  the  lawns  and  residences  of  Euclid 
Avenue  are  placed  in  the  picture,  it  completely 
eclipses  the  Arlington  thoroughfare.  There  are 
some  fine  dwellings,  however,  among  these  orange 
groves,  themselves  a feature  which  can  never  grace 
the  Cleveland  street. 

In  orange  culture  Riverside  is  supposed  to  rival 
the  best  orange-fields  of  the  continent.  Eminent 
among  the  varieties  grown  here  is  the  Riverside 
Naval,  an  orange  of  Brazilian  origin,  and  surpassing 
in  size  and  flavor,  as  some  think,  the  luscious  Indian 
River  orange  of  Florida.  At  the  California  fruit 
exhibits  it  has  “ often  taken  the  premium  over  all 
competitors,”  being  pronounced  the  best  orange 
grown  in  the  United  States.  About  1885  a blood 
orange,  in  flavor  superior  to  the  well-known  Malta, 
made  its  appearance  in  this  valley,  coming  from  the 
Island  of  Tahiti.  There  are  said  to  be  growing  in 
Southern  California  thirty-three  varieties  of  oranges, 
and  fourteen  or  more  kinds  of  lemons. 

RAISIN  CULTURE  AT  RIVERSIDE. 

But  it  is  as  a center  of  raisin  culture,  perhaps, 
that  Riverside  comes  most  prominently  to  the  front 


192 


CALIFORNIA . 


among  the  colonies  of  Southern  California.  I should 
say,  without  the  figures  at  hand  to  prove  it,  that  its 
shipments  of  this  fruit  exceed  those  from  all  other 
points  combined.  In  this  valley  much  study  and  in- 
telligent experiment  have  been  given  to  the  industry, 
and  it  has  been  learned  that  four  conditions  are 
indispensable  to  success  in  the  pursuit.  These  are: 
A rich,  warm,  well-drained  soil;  a dry  atmosphere; 
skillful  cultivation  of  the  soil,  and  a high  tempera- 
ture for  curing  the  fruit.  All  these  requisites  seem 
to  obtain  at  Riverside.  The  reader  may  have  sup- 
posed that  raisins  can  be  made  wherever  grapes  can 
be  grown.  A few  observations  taken  in  a raisin- 
making community  would  banish  that  notion. 
Grapes  can  be  grown  where  rains  are  frequent;  but 
a shower  when  raisins  are  curing,  is  an  undesirable 
visitor.  The  details  of  the  industry  are  very  in- 
teresting. If  the  reader  will  peruse  the  following 
paragraphs  he  will  get  a good  idea  of  how  raisins 
are  made.  Most  of  the  information  given  was 
derived  from  the  Messrs.  Orrin  and  William  Backus, 
intelligent  raisin-growers  at  Riverside. 

The  grape  most  in  favor  with  the  Riverside  cul- 
turists,  and  the  one  from  which  their  best  raisins 
are  made,  is  the  Muscat  of  Alexandria,  a native  of 
Northern  Africa.  Besides  this,  there  are  much  cul- 


RAISIN  CULTURE. 


193 


tivated,  the  Muscatel  Gordo  Blanco,  a large,  white, 
pulpy  grape,  of  high  flavor;  and  the  Seedless  Sul- 
tana, a small,  white,  prolific  variety,  mainly  used 
for  cooking.  The  Muscat,  however,  is  the  staple 
grape  for  raisins.  Under  favorable  circumstances 
it  yields  very  large,  open  clusters,  which,  when  ripe, 
are  of  a light,  amber  color,  firm  in  flesh  and  rich 
in  sugar.  The  seeds  are  small,  and  the  flavor  very 
fine.  The  Muscat  vine  is  peculiarly  sensitive  to 
cold  and  dampness,  especially  at  the  period  of 
inflorescence.  Such  a state  of  weather  is  quite  cer- 
tain to  produce  sterile  blossoms.  It  is  for  this 
reason  that  the  Muscat  is  not  so  well  adapted  to 
the  northern  part  of  the  State,  where  showers  and 
heavy  fogs  are  frequent.  Also,  the  occurrence  of  a 
few  extremely  hot  days  in  Summer  will  cause  the 
berries  to  fall;  while  a chilly  season  delays  their 
maturing,  and  increases  the  labor  of  curing  them. 

A raisin  vineyard  is  in  full  bearing  at  eight 
years  from  the  planting.  Properly  cared  for  after 
that  age,  it  ought  to  yield  bountifully  for  at  least 
forty  years.  Some  of  the  vineyards  of  the  Mission 
Grape — a wine-making  fruit — planted  in  Caliiornia 
by  the  Franciscan  Fathers,  are  a century  old,  yet 
but  a few  years  since,  the  black,  distorted  stumps  of 

one  of  these  vineyards  were  to  be  seen  fruiting  in 
17 


194 


CALIFORNIA . 


the  neighborhood  of  Aliso  Street,  in  Los  Angeles. 
Once  in  bearing,  therefore,  a raisin  vineyard  may 
be  a source  of  income  during  the  owner’s  life-time; 
and,  should  he  be  early  removed  by  death,  is  a de- 
sirable property  to  leave  his  'family. 

The  operations  of  pruning  and  irrigating  the 
vines;  of  picking,  drying,  and  packing  the  raisins, 
require  the  exercise  of  skill  and  intelligence, 
if  the  vineyardist  would  reap  a harvest  from  his 
investment.  In  the  singular  soil  of  California  na- 
ture has  hidden  away  many  a fortune,  and  if  man 
would  persuade  her  to  unlock  them  for  his  benefit, 
he  must  work  in  harmony  with  her  plans.  There- 
fore, if  she  requires  grapevines  to  be  trimmed  down 
to  two  eyes,  instead  of  more,  his  wisest  course  is  to 
obey  her.  If  she  resents  having  the  soil  washed 
away  from,  rather  than  properly  soaked  above  their 
roots,  during  irrigation,  he  had  better  gracefully 
yield  the  point.  Prodigal  irrigation  meets  its  pun- 
ishment in  deteriorated  fruits  and  impoverished 
fields.  How  often  and  how  much  to  irrigate,  are 
important  questions  in  California.  Location,  the 
character  of  the  soil,  and  the  variation  in  the  sea- 
sons, modify  the  answer.  The  fruit-grower  must 
use  his  judgment,  and  his  experience,  in  deciding 
the  case. 


RAISIN  CULTURE. 


195 


In  planting  vines  for  raisins,  cuttings  from 
eighteen  to  twenty  inches  in  length,  and  bearing 
from  three  to  five  healthy  buds,  are  preferred.  The 
cutting  is  made  close  to  one  bud,  and  that  one,  with 
one  or  two  others,  is  buried  firmly  beneath  the  well- 
prepared  soil. 

The  customary,  and  probably  best  time  for  prun- 
ing is  in  December  and  January.  It  may  be  done 
at  any  time  after  the  leaves  fall  and  before  the  buds 
start.  A second  or  “ Summer  pruning”  is  practiced 
by  some  vine-dressers.  But  the  step  is  objected  to 
by  others,  on  the  ground  that  removing  many  of 
the  leaves  exposes  the  berries  to  sun-burn.  At  the 
Winter  pruning  Mr.  Backus,  who  has  made  an  ear- 
nest study  of  the  soil  and  climate,  cuts  his  canes 
down  to  ten  or  twelve  inches  from  the  ground.  It 
is  considered  that  a low,  strong  stump,  with  short 
spurs  for  the  fruit,  insures  better  results  than  does 
a greater  length  of  vine.  Just  before  the  buds 
start,  the  ground  is  plowed  and  irrigated  thoroughly. 
If  a second  and  later  irrigation  can  be  avoided,  the 
better.  If  not,  just  enough  water  should  be  given 
the  vines  to  ripen  the  fruit.  To  insure  first-class 
raisins,  the  grapes  must  be  fully  ripe  when  cut. 

When  the  Muscat  berries  have  taken  on  a clear, 
bright,  amber  color,  as  they  do  between  the  first  and 


196 


CALIFORNIA . 


middle  of  September,  they  are  ready  for  the  pick- 
ing. Chinese  and  Indians  are  usually  employed  for 
this  branch  of  the  work.  In  some  vineyards  the 
picking  is  done  by  the  day,  in  others  by  the  tray,  the 
wages  varying  from  $1.50  to  $2.00  per  day.  Each 
picker  removes  the  clusters  from  two  rows  of  vines 
at  the  same  time,  placing  them  on  wooden  trays 
capable  of  holding  twenty  pounds  each,  which  are 
placed  at  intervals  between  the  rows.  In  the  pick- 
ing great  care  is  taken  not  to  remove  the  “ bloom  ” 
from  the  fruit  with  the  hands,  as  that  detracts  from 
the  appearance  of  the  raisins.  Three  trays,  of 
twenty  pounds  each,  will  make  twenty  pounds  of 
raisins.  Thus  the  fruit  shrinks  about  two-thirds  in 
curing. 

The  weather  being  favorable,  the  raisins  will 
dry  in  about  fourteen  days.  Should  a shower  fall 
while  they  are  curing,  the  trays  must  be  “ stacked,” 
several  in  a company,  the  sides  being  well  protected 
in  some  way.  By  this  arrangement  the  berries  will 
stand  a heavy  rain  without  injury.  It  has  been 
learned  that  to  incline  the  trays  to  the  sun  on 
favorable  days  hastens  the  drying.  The  fruit  is 
turned  but  once  during  the  fourteen  days,  but  the 
act  requires  some  dexterity,  as  a tray-full  is  turned 
by  a single  movement.  It  is  accomplished  by 


RAISIN  CULTURE. 


197 


inverting  an  empty  tray  upon  a full  one,  and  turning 
both  simultaneously,  the  full  tray  thus  becomes  the 
empty  one.  Two  men  are  required  for  the  deed. 

By  some  parties  the  trays  are  allowed  to  remain 
on  the  ground  between  the  rows  during  the  drying. 
By  others  they  are  disposed  in  an  open  space, 
where  the  fruit  may  have  the  full  fervor  of  the  sun 
and  the  free  sweep  of  the  air.  Formerly  it  was  the 
custom  to  lay  the  clusters  on  the  bare  ground  to 
dry,  and  to  turn  each  one  by  hand.  Laying  them 
on  paper  superseded  this  practice.  Boards  were 

next  adopted.  Then  followed  frames  made  of  lath. 
Trays  are  the  latest  invention. 

The  berries  not  being  uniform  in  size,  there 
results  unevenness  in  the  curing.  Before  they  are 
packed,  however,  not  only  must  the  moisture  be 
equalized,  but  the  aroma  must  be  developed;  also 
the  fragile  stems  must  be  rendered  pliable,  else  the 
clusters  will  be  broken  in  the  packing.  All  these 
results  are  secured  by  placing  the  trays  in  contriv- 
ances called  “ sweat-boxes”  for  a few  days.  Here 
the  fruit  is  “ evened  up,”  or  brought  to  the  requi- 
site condition  for  the  final  step.  On  removal  from 
the  sweat-box  the  bunches  are  assorted  into  Layers, 
London  Layers,  and  Loose  Muscatels.  From  this 
last  grade  the  Riverside  Packing  Company  selects 


198 


CALIFORNIA. 


the  small  seedless  raisins  and  rates  them  as  “ Seed- 
less Sultanas,”  though  not  one  of  them  is  the  fruit 
of  a Sultana  vine.  Some  parties  cull  from  the  trays, 
before  the  turning,  such  stems  as  will  rank  as 
London  Layers,  and  place  them  on  separate  trays, 
where  they  may  dry  uniformly. 

After  the  distribution  into  classes,  the  raisins 
are  weighed  into  parcels  of  five  pounds  each.  The 
packer  then  presses  each  package  into  close  shape, 
places  it  in  a mold  of  proper  size,  puts  that  under 
a lever-press  until  the  fruit  is  quite  compact,  when 
he  drops  it,  wrapped  in  fine  white  paper,  into  the 
box  in  which  it  is  to  go  to  market.  Raisin-boxes 
are  graded  in  sizes  to  hold  two-and-a-half,  five,  ten, 
and  twenty  pounds  each.  The  last  are  known  as 
whole  boxes,  and  always  contain  four  of  the  five- 
pound  packages. 

The  yield  of  raisins  from  the  vicinity  of  River- 
side is  very  great.  Tn  1883  it  amounted  to  sixty 
thousand  boxes.  At  that  time  most  of  the  vine- 
yards had  about  half  reached  maturity.  Thirty- 
three  tons  per  acre,  or  two  thousand  two  hundred 
and  thirty  trays,  each  averaging  twenty  pounds, 
was  the  product  of  Mr.  Backus’s  young  vineyard 
that  year.  Of  course,  the  harvest  has  vastly  in- 
creased since  that  time. 


RAISIN  CULTURE . 


199 


California  raisin-makers  have  learned  that  vines 
permitted  to  overbear,  produce  an  inferior  quality 
of  fruit,  a much  finer  flavor  being  obtained  when 
prodigality  of  production  is  checked.  It  is  said 
that,  for  a prime  quality  of  raisins,  the  Malaga 
grower,  who  received  the  award  for  the  best  raisins 
shown  at  the  Philadelphia  Centennial,  allows  his 
vines  to  produce  only  two  pounds  of  fruit  each. 


XXIII, 


(©HE  INIGOS  AND  THE  SUF^ENDEI^  OP 
(©AHUENGA. 


IMMEDIATELY  after  my  return  from  my  jaunt 
to  Riverside,  I met  at  her  pleasant  home,  near 
the  First  Presbyterian  Church,  in  Los  Angeles,  a 
daughter  of  General  Andrez  Pico,  the  Mexican 
officer  who  surrendered  to  Captain,  now  General 
J.  C.  Fremont,  in  1848,  if  I am  correct — I write 
from  memory  as  to  the  date — the  famous  Cahuenga 
Pass,  a rudely  fortified  position  some  nine  miles 
from  the  city,  in  the  San  Fernando  Mountains. 
This  event  in  the  history  of  Southern  California  is 
one  of  which  a stranger  in  this  part  of  the  State 
often  hears.  And  it  is  not  an  infrequent  thing  for 
such  to  be  asked : 

“Have  you  visited  the  Cahuenga  Pass  yet?” 
Having  answered  my  share  of  such  interrogato- 
ries in  the  negative,  and  hoping  to  obtain  from  this 
daughter  a correct  version  of  the  action  at  Cahu- 
enga, I called  at  her  home.  The  lady,  loyal  to  the 
Pico  blood  in  her  veins,  was  affable  in  manner,  and 

appeared  interested  in  my  errand. 

200 


THE  SURRENDER  OF  CAHUENOA.  201 


She  had  “ often  heard  the  story — the  Mexican 
side  of  it — but,  unfortunately,  her  memory  was  not 
reliable;  and,  besides,  Mexican  women  were  not 
accustomed  to  remember  those  matters  as  the  Amer- 
ican women  do.”  Then  she  urged  me  to  “ see  her 
uncle,  Don  Pio  Pico,  at  his  residence  in  the  old 
quarter  of  the  city,”  or  to  call  “ upon  Colonel 
Warner,  a life-long  friend  of  Don  Pio.  Either  of 
those  gentlemen  could  tell  exactly  how  Cahuenga 
was  delivered  up  to  the  Americans  by  her  father.” 

So  wending  my  way  through  High  Street, 
until  I came  to  a long,  low,  adobe  house,  stand- 
ing back  some  little  distance  from  the  corner  of 
Castellar  Street,  in  that  part  of  the  city  called 
Sonoratown,  I inquired  of  a Mexican  woman  in 
the  yard  if  the  place  were  the  residence  of  Don 
Pio  Pico. 

“ It  is,”  she  replied,  “ but  he  is  not  here.  He  is 
at  Ranchita,  his  country  home,  a few  miles  out  of 
the  city,  and  comes  in  to-morrow.  But  walk  in, 
and  I will  find  the  Senora  Ortega,  the  sister  of  Don 
Pio,  who  will  be  glad  to  see  you,  although  she 
speaks  little  English.” 

While  the  woman  kindly  sought  the  Senora,  who 
was  employed  in  the  domestic  apartments  of  the 
house,  I took  note  of  the  surroundings.  The  house 


202 


CALIFORNIA. 


stands  in  an  ample  yard,  fenced  with  boards,  at  the 
base  of  the  high  hill  which  terminates  Fort  Street, 
near  Temple.  A long  piazza  finishes  the  eastern 
side.  Upon  this  open  the  five  or  six  rooms,  all  on 
the  ground-floor,  which  compose  the  dwelling. 
Externally  and  internally  it  is  far  from  palatial. 
The  apartment  which  serves  as  a family  sitting- 
room  and  parlor  for  guests,  is  innocent  of  carpet, 
except  that  a short  strip  of  tapestry  Brussels  answers 
the  purpose  of  a rug  in  front  of  the  sofa.  A cou- 
ple of  small  stands,  a willow  chair  or  two,  and  a 
set  of  furniture  upholstered  in  green  reps,  faded 
and  worn,  with  the  wood-work  stained  to  imitate 
rosewood,  render  the  place  home-like,  a variety  of 
bright  ornaments  and  fixtures  on  the  white  wall 
adding  to  this  effect.  Every  thing  was  in  perfect 
order,  and  the  house  scrupulously  clean  throughout, 
showing  that  Mrs.  Ortega  is  a good  housekeeper. 

Presently  in  came  the  lady,  small,  homely, 
wrinkled,  aged  seventy-four,  ignorant  of  English, 
but  very  courteous  and  quick  to  understand.  From 
a niece  who  accompanied  her — the  Mrs.  Perkins, 
of  Santa  Barbara,  of  whom  I have  already  spoken — 
I learned  that  Mrs.  Ortega  is  one  of  a family  of 
eleven  children,  of  whom  eight  were  daughters,  and 
of  whom  only  three  survive,  herself,  a sister  in 


THE  SURRENDER  OF  CAHUENOA.  203 


Santa  Barbara,  aged  eighty-eight,  and  Don  Pio 
Pico,  now  eighty-four,  each  one  being  remarkably 
active  and  hale.  The  Picos  are  native  Californians, 
but  of  true  Spanish  descent,  and  in  intellectual 
qualities  surpass  the  average  of  the  race. 

The  father  of  the  family  was  a corporal  in  the 
Spanish  army.  At  the  beginning  of  this  century 
he  was  stationed  at  the  well-known  Mission  of  San 
Gabriel,  where  he  died  many  years  ago.  His  eldest 
son,  Jose  Antonio  Pico,  was  an  officer  in  the  Mex- 
ican army,  from  his  early  manhood  until  the  acces- 
sion of  California,  and  reached  the  grade  of  lieu- 
tenant. 

The  youngest  son,  Andrez  Pico,  was  also  an 
officer  in  that  army,  and  attained  the  rank  of  gen- 
eral. It  was  he  who  figured  as  the  Mexican  com- 
mander in  a sharp  conflict  with  a force  of  American 
infantry,  under  one  Captain  Gray,  at  San  Pasqual, 
in  December,  1846,  and  soon  afterwards,  in  con- 
ducting the  negotiations  preliminary  thereto,  and 
concluding  the  famous  treaty  of  Cahuenga,  with 
Captain  Fremont.  On  the  part  of  the  Mexican 
leader,  the  last  affair  was  a brilliant  achievement, 
in  which,  according  to  some  authorities,  he  com- 
pletely outgeneraled  the  American  officer.  The 
substance  of  a graphic  account  of  the  event,  as 


204 


CALIFORNIA. 


contained  in  the  “ Reminiscences  of  a Sanger/*  by 
Major  Horace  Bell,  is  here  appended : 

“ As  Colonel  Fremont  approached  Cahuenga, 
frowning  artillery  confronting  him  from  the  intrench- 
ments,  he  was  met  with  a flag  of  truce  from  Gen- 
eral Pico  within  the  stronghold.  A parley  ensued, 
and  the  treaty  of  Cahuenga  was  the  result.  Repre- 
senting the  Republic  of  Mexico,  Pico  proposed  to 
disband  his  force,  the  officers  retaining  their  pri- 
vate arms;  to  deliver  to  Captain  Fremont  all  the 
arms  and  munitions  of  war  at  the  Pass,  and  to 
permit  the  latter  to  march,  without  opposition,  into 
the  city  of  Los  Angeles,  on  condition  that  he — 
General  Pico — should  have  two  liours  in  which  to 
make  his  preparations  and  retire  his  force  from  the 
fort,  after  which  the  American  commander  might 
march  in  and  take  possession. 

“ On  his  part  Colonel  Fremont  agreed  that  the 
Mexican  force  should  be  allowed  to  retire  peaceably 
to  their  homes,  and  there  remain  unmolested;  and 
also  that  certain  Mexican  officers  who  had  violated 
their  paroles  in  the  preceding  September,  should  be 
pardoned.  Having  affixed  their  signatures  to  the 
treaty,  each  commander  retaining  a copy,  General 
Pico,  at  the  head  of  about  forty  men,  withdrew 
from  the  fort,  and  the  Americans  marched  in. 


THE  SURRENDER  OF  CAHUENGA. 


205 


“ The  spoils,  which  by  this  treaty  passed  out  of 
the  hands  of  humbled  Mexico,  were  two  batteries 
of  artillery,  consisting  of  a dozen  live-oak  logs, 
mounted  on  as  many  native  corretas ; one  venerable 
blunderbuss,  the  date  of  which,  engraved  upon  it, 
suggested  service  at  the  siege  of  Granada ; two  flint- 
lock Spanish  holster-pistols,  and  forty  Mexican 
ox-goads,  with  gay  pennons  attached.” 

Don  Andreas  Pico  is  said  to  have  been  a great 
humorist,  and  to  have  taken  much  delight  in  laugh- 
ing over  his  Quaker  demonstrations  at  Cahuenga. 
During  the  governorship  of  General  Micheltoreno 
over  California,  General  Pico  was  his  aid-de-camp. 
After  the  acquirement  of  the  province  by  the 
United  States,  he  held  several  responsible  positions 
under  both  the  State  and  general  governments. 
And  subsequent  to  the  admission  of  California  into 
the  Union,  he  represented  the  county  of  Los  An- 
geles in  the  State  General  Assembly,  and  the 
Southern  District  of  California  in  the  Senate.  He 
was  a man  who  had  many  friends.  His  demise 
occurred  some  nine  years  ago. 

The  surviving  brother,  Don  Pio  Pico,  seems  not 
to  have  had  a taste  for  military  life ; or  if  so,  the 
circumstances  of  his  youth  precluded  his  enter- 
ing the  Mexican  army.  He  however  became  prom- 


206 


CALIFORNIA . 


inent  in  the  political  changes  which  took  place  in 
California,  from  about  the  year  1831  onward  to 
1846.  From  a warm  personal  friend  of  the  gentle- 
man, I have  the  following  facts  in  his  career: 

In  his  youth  he  had  but  narrow  opportunities 
for  education.  He  however  learned  to  read  and 
write  well  in  Spanish,  and  acquired  a good  knowl- 
edge of  arithmetic.  In  early  manhood,  his  father 
having  died,  he  was  left  without  patrimony,  to 
provide  for  his  widowed  mother  and  several  sisters. 
But  he  proved  himself  an  admirable  manager,  and 
accumulated  property  until,  at  the  age  of  forty-five, 
he  had  the  reputation  throughout  Southern  Califor- 
nia of  being  a wealthy  man.  At  that  period,  1845, 
himself  and  his  brother  Andrez  were  joint  proprie- 
tors of  the  magnificent  rancho  of  Santa  Margarita, 
in  San  Diego  County.  The  property  comprised 
ninety  thousand  acres.  There  roamed  upon  it  from 
six  to  eight  thousand  head  of  cattle,  common  prop- 
erty also. 

In  addition  to  this  Don  Pio  Pico  was  the  sole 
owner  of  a valuable  estate  situated  in  Los  Angeles 
County,  some  twelve  or  fourteen  miles  from  the 
city,  and  called  Ranohita.  This  he  still  retains, 
spending  most  of  his  time  upon  it.  Subsequently 
he  acquired  considerable  property  in  Los  Angeles, 


THE  SURRENDER  OF  CAHUENGA. 


207 


the  site  on  which  the  “Pico  House ” now  stands, 
and  that  building  itself,  being  a part  of  it. 

In  1834,  Mr.  Pico,  having  become  attached  to 
a young  Spanish  woman  by  the  name  of  Maria  Ig- 
nacia  Alvarado,  entered  the  matrimonial  state.  The 
lady  was  a distinguished  beauty,  and  a person  of 
fascinating  manners.  Speaking  of  her  yesterday,  a 
Spanish  woman  who  knew  her  well  said  to  me: 

“You  should  have  seen  her.  Words  can  not 
express  her  looks,  nor  her  charming  ways  when  she 
conversed  with  people.  She  smiled  the  most  sweetly 
of  all  women.” 

Twenty-four  years  have  passed  away  since  this 
lovely  woman  died,  leaving  no  children.  Tenderly 
cherishing  her  memory,  Governor  Pico  has  never 
married  again.  At  that  time  it  was  quite  the  cus- 
tom among  Mexican  women,  as  it  now  is,  to  smoke 
cigarettes.  Mrs.  Pico  is  said  to  have  indulged  in 
this  practice  occasionally.  But  her  husband  carried 
the  habit  to  excess,  being  an  almost  constant 
smoker.  The  friend  I am  quoting  in  this  particu- 
lar states  that  one  day  during  the  lady’s  final  ill- 
ness, herself  and  Don  Pio  were  enjoying  their 
cigarettes  together,  when  she  was  seized  with  a 
terrible  rigor,  which  terminated  in  death  in 
about  ah  hour.  “From  that  day  to  the  present,” 


208 


CALIFORNIA . 


said  my  informant,  “ Don  Pio  PicoL  has  never 
smoked.” 

Upon  the  expulsion  of  Governor  Micheltoreno, 
as  the  executive  of  California,  in  1839,  I think, 
Mr.  Pico,  by  virtue  of  being  the  senior  member  of 
the  California  Legislature,  became  ex-officio  gov- 
ernor of  the  province.  Afterward  he  was  elected 
and  appointed  “ Governor  of  the  Department  of  the 
Californias,**  as  provided  under  the  Constitution  of 
Mexico.  This  position  he  retained  until  the  trans- 
fer of  what  is  now  the  State  of  California  to  the 
United  States,  August  14,  1846.  During  his  ad- 
ministration the  city  of  Los  Angeles  was  the  seat 
of  government.  Just  preceding  its  occupation  by 
the  American  forces,  Governor  Pico  judged  it  pru- 
dent, for  political  reasons,  to  withdraw  from  his 
capital.  Retiring  to  Lower  California,  he  crossed 
thence  to  the  State  of  Sonora,  where  he  remained  in 
exile  until  some  time  in  *49  or  *50,  since  which  time 
he  has  resided  in  or  near  this  city. 

At  the  secularization  of  the  California  Missions 
by  the  Mexican  Government,  Don  Pio  Pico  was 
appointed  administrator  of  the  Mission  of  San  Luis 
Rey,  an  important  position,  and  one  he  maintained 
for  a numbeUof  years.  About  the  same  time  Gen- 
eral Andrez  Pico  was  made  one  of  the  grantees  of 


THE  SURRENDER  OF  CAHUENGA . 


209 


the  magnificent  estate  belonging  to  the  Mission  of 
San  Fernando,  lying  in  the  fertile  valley  of  that 
name.  The  interest  in  this  property  also  was  held 
in  common  by  the  two  brothers.  After  a time  Don 
Pio  acquired  his  brother’s  claim  and  eventually 
sold  it  for  a large  sum  of  money. 

For  years  past  the  Catholic  Church  has  been  at 
law  for  the  recovery  of  both  these  princely  domains, 
and  yesterday  morning  a Catholic  priest  informed 
me,  with  a somewhat  triumphant  air,  that  the  Church 
had  succeeded,  the  San  Fernando  property  having 
recently  fallen  into  Her  hands. 

Don  Pio,  “ the  last  of  the  Picos,”  is  a person 
who,  once  seen,  could  not  well  be  forgotten.  He 
is  of  medium  height,  stoutly  built,  with  straight 
shoulders,  full  face,  dark  eyes,  snowy  hair,  and 
brown  skin.  He  is  social,  charitable,  polished  in 
manners.  These  gifts  and  graces  win  him  the  high 
regard  of  all  acquaintances,  and  the  admiration  of 
his  kindred.  He  is  one  of  the  few  representatives 
remaining  of  the  Mexican  regime  in  California. 

18 


XXIV. 


©ime  Beguiles  you. 


A SINGULAR  feature  of  life  in  Southern  Cali- 
fornia  is  the  apparent  rapid  flight  of  time. 
The  days  seem  to  come  and  go  on  the  wings  of  the 
wind.  A very  short  sojourn  on  the  coast  suffices 
to  produce  this  impression.  Nor  is  it  made  only 
upon  the  strangers  who  tarry  but  for  a Winter,  or  a 
year.  Even  old  residents  of  the  country  say  there 
is  something  remarkable  in  the  haste  with  which 
the  passing  part  of  eternity  speeds  by. 

“ Here  Time  waits  for  nobody,  I assure  you,” 
said  a citizen  lately,  who  had  enjoyed  the  Pacific 
breeze  for  twelve  years.  “ I used  to  wonder  if  this 
impression,  of  no  length  to  the  days,  would  not  wear 
off  after  a while ; but  I see  no  difference.  Slow 
time  must  have  gone  out  with  the  dreaming  Mex- 
icans.” 

Said  a lady  from  Chicago  to  the  writer  a few 
days  since:  “ What  an  alarming  hurry  the  days  are 
in  on  this  strange  coast ! It  is  noon  before  sun- 
rise, and  night  before  midday.  I have  the  feeling 
210 


TIME  BEGUILES  YOU . 


211 


all  the  while,  that  I must  in  some  way  chain  the 
time  until  I can  accomplish  something.” 

My  own  experience  confirms  these  statements. 
Eight  months  have  elapsed  since  my  entrance  into 
this  old  Spanish  town,  yet,  should  I be  informed 
that  half  that  number  is  the  real  length  of  time,  I 
should  accept  the  announcement  as  correct.  Even 
young  persons,  for  whom  Father  Time,  accoutered 
with  hour-glass  and  scythe,  is  usually  much  too 
slow,  appear  to  be  quite  satisfied  with  the  progress 
the  quaint  old  fellow  makes  in  the  Golden  State. 

How  to  account  for  this  influence  is  difficult. 
There  seems  to  exist  in  the  country  a something 
which  cheats  the  senses.  Whether  it  be  in  the  air, 
the  sunshine,  in  the  ocean  breeze,  or  in  all  these 
combined,  I can  not  say.  Certainly  the  climate  is 
not  the  home-made,  common-sense  article  of  the 
ante-Rocky  Mountain  States.  It  is  a product  ot 
consummate  art.  There  is  a variety  in  the  even- 
ness of  the  weather,  and  a strange  evenness  in  this 
variety,  which  throws  an  unreality  around  life,  and 
not  more,  so  far  as  I can  learn,  in  the  case  of  per- 
sons especially  affected  by  climatic  influences  than 
of  those  whose  feelings  do  not  rise  and  fall  with  the 
thermometer.  All  alike  walk  and  work  in  a dream. 
Something  beguiles,  deludes,  plays  falsely  with  the 


212 


CALIFORNIA . 


senses.  Were  only  the  aged,  or  the  ill,  or  the  sor- 
rowful, subjects  of  the  influence,  the  matter  would 
be  less  worthy  of  remark.  But  since  old  and 
young,  sad  and  happy,  are  its  victims,  there  is 
some  ground  for  the  attention  I am  giving  the 
subject. 

It  appears  to  make  trifling  difference  in  the  case 
how  closely  one  applies  one’s  self.  The  effect  is  the 
same.  I seat  myself  to  write  at  nine  o’clock  in  the 
morning.  In  an  incredibly  short  time  it  is  one 
o’clock.  I realize  that  I am  hungry.  I take  my 
light  dinner  of  bread  and  peaches,  and  return  to  my 
task.  Ere  I am  aware  the  sun  is  dropping  into 
the  Pacific.  I find  myself  unspeakably  tired,  but 
have  had  no  appreciation  of  the  passage  of  the  day. 
Had  I been  at  home,  on  the  southern  shore  of  much 
maligned  Lake  Erie,  I should  have  “ sensed”  the 
going  by  of  nine  honest,  substantial  hours,  though 
I had  been  just  as  busy.  Now,  I am  not  finding 
fault  with  this  state  of  things.  I rather  like  it.  I 
think  all  the  people  do.  It  is  in  keeping  with 
every  thing  else  on  this  coast.  Every  thing  is  new 
and  peculiar  and  wonderful. 

A friend  under  this  roof  says  she  has  “ dreamed 
away  eleven  years  in  this  city,  since  bidding  adieu 
to  the  rigor  of  Michigan  Winters,”  and,  so  far  as 


DO  THEY  NEVER  SLEEP  t 


213 


her  “ realizing  its  length  is  concerned,  the  time 
might  as  well  have  been  two  years  as  eleven/’  She 
declares  that  frequently  upon  awakening  in  the 
morning,  she  has  to  ask  herself  what  day  of  the  week 
it  is,  and  sometimes  what  season  of  the  year,  so 
uncertain  is  she  as  to  just  where  the  time  is.  This 
suggests  that  indefinite  ideas  of  the  days  and  seasons 
are  due,  certainly  in  part,  to  the  slight  change 
which  marks  the  seasons.  Scores  upon  scores  of 
days  are  alike  as  to  warmth,  brightness,  and  beauty. 
Flowers  bloom  the  year  round.  Most  of  the  trees 
wear  a changeless  dress. 

DO  THEY  NEVER  SLEEP? 

Another  strange  characteristic  of  the  country  is 
the  sleeplessness  of  the  fowls  and  dogs.  I can  not 
remember  to  have  wakened  once  in  the  night  since 
my  advent  into  Los  Angeles,  when  a multitude  of 
these  creatures  were  not  doing  their  “ level  best  ” to 
excel  in  exercising  their  vocal  organs.  The  result, 
of  course,  is  an  intense  and  wide-spread  din,  a great 
volume  of  crowings  and  barkings.  The  air  is  filled 
with  the  music,  and  sleep  is  driven  to  the  mount- 
ains, or  out  to  sea. 

However,  in  this  respect  California  can  not  hold 
a candle — excuse  the  expression — to  old-new  Ari- 


214 


CALIFORNIA . 


zona.  During  a week  spent  in  the  unique  hut 
interesting  city  of  Tucson  last  Winter,  a small  col- 
ony of  fowls  was  “corraled”  in  the  court  of  the 
house  in  which  I lodged.  A window  of  my  room, 
which  I wras  obliged  to  have  open  at  night  for  fresh 
air,  opened  upon  this  court.  Those  feathered  people 
must  have  understood  that  I was  a stranger  in  the 
land  of  silver  and  gold,  and  have  desired  to  give 
me  a cordial  welcome,  for  every  night,  presumably 
at  great  cost  of  comfort  to  themselves,  they  arranged 
an  all-night  concert  for  my  entertainment.  Several 
neighboring  companies  joined  heartily  in  the  cho- 
ruses, and  with  such  force  as  to  convince  me  that 
the  domestic  bird  of  Arizona  excels  the  world  in 
vocal  talent.  I can  account  for  the  steady  nightly 
music  of  the  Los  Angeles  fowls,  on  the  ground  that 
the  city  is  so  well  lighted  that  they  can  not  distin- 
guish night  from  day,  but  why  those  of  Arizona 
should  never  sleep  is  a mystery. 

A THUNDER  SHOWER  IN  MIDSUMMER. 

About  mid-afternoon  yesterday,  several  unusual 
sounds  caused  the  citizens  to  step  quickly  to  the 
doors  and  take  a look  at  the  sky.  These  rare 
noises  were  simply  a few  moderate  peals  of  thunder. 
It  being  Sunday,  most  of  the  week-day  clamor  was 


A THUNDER  SHOWER  IN  MIDSUMMER.  215 

bushed.  Thus  were  the  tones  from  the  heavens  all 
the  more  distinct  and  startling.  Not  more  sur- 
prised, though  undoubtedly  more  alarmed,  would 
the  people  have  been  had  the  notes  been  the  pre- 
monitions of  an  earthquake.  A sensible  daughter  in 
the  household,  looking  up  from  her  book,  said : 

“Well,  we  have  lived  in  this  city  eleven  years, 
and  this  is  the  first  time  I have  heard  thunder  in 
Summer.  We  occasionally,  jn  Winter,  hear  such 
reminders  of  our  Michigan  home,  but  never  after 
April. ” It  was  then  the  4th  of  August. 

A lady  residing  in  San  Bernardino  affirms  that 
it  was  the  first  time  she  had  listened  to  such  music 
in  midsummer,  during  a sojourn  of  thirteen  years  in 
Southern  California.  These  remarks  attest  the  rar- 
ity of  electrical  phenomena  on  this  part  of  the  coast. 
But  Nature  must  certainly  have  changed  her  pro- 
gramme for  1884,  for  I have  heard  peals  of  thunder 
on  several  occasions  since  the  Winter  rains,  one  as 
late  as  June  and — I am  not  keeping  a meteorological 
record,  and  so  may  be  mistaken — another  in  July. 

Happening  to  be  seated  beside  a window  over- 
looking the  Los  Angeles  Valley,  picturesque  with 
its  groves  of  eucalypti  and  orange  trees  in  the  dis- 
tance, I turned  my  eyes  toward  the  sea  after  the 
tones  rolled  through  the  heavens.  Sure  enough! 


216 


CALIFORNIA. 


there  were  unmistakable  signs  of  a shower,  and  soon 
down  came  the  welcome  rain,  delighting  every  body. 
Even  the  little  birds  were  gleeful.  Shortly  then, 
uprose  the  sweet  odors  from  the  ground,  the  flowers, 
and  trees.  The  dust  nicely  laid,  the  dark  cloud 
swept  off*  northward,  hovering  awhile  over  the  sum- 
mits of  the  San  Fernando  Mountains,  and  flashing 
out  its  crooked  ribbons  of  fire. 

“When  he  uttereth  his  voice  there  is  a multi- 
tude of  waters  in  the  heavens.”  “ He  maketh 
lightnings  with  rain  and  bringeth  forth  the  wind 
out  of  his  treasures.” 


XXV. 

fl  (SINISTER  UTO  WHE  IiOWLIESfl. 


HE  present  Summer  lias  witnessed  a notable 


revival  of  interest  in  the  early  Spanish  mis- 
sions of  Alta  California.  The  feeling  has  been  con- 
fined chiefly  within  the  State,  and  particularly  to 
the  Catholic  portion  of  the  citizens,  though  some 
concern  has  been  evinced  beyond  the  border  lines. 
The  cause  of  this  revival  was  the  recurrence,  on 
August  28th,  of  the  one  hundredth  anniversary  of 
their  founder,  the  Rev.  Junipero  Serra,  D.  D. 

For  many  weeks  prior  to  that  date  the  corre- 
spondents of  the  Pacific  Coast  newspapers  were 
busy  searching  the  archives  and  records  of  that 
early  period ; visiting  the  seats  of  the  various  mis- 
sions; writing  eloquent  descriptions  of  their  former 
wealth  and  present  decay,  and  catechising  the  oldest 
living  Spaniards,  as  well  as  the  earliest  pioneer 
Americans,  for  the  purpose  of  bringing  to  light  all 
the  history  of  these  stations  and  of  their  distin- 
guished superintendent. 

How  much  of  permanent,  practical  good  resulted 


19 


217 


218 


CALIFORNIA . 


from  the  labors  of  this  man  among  the  wild  Indian 
tribes  whom  lie  and  his  assistants  found  peopling 
this  coast,  and  whom  they  subjugated  in  the  name 
of  the  gospel  and  of  the  king  of  Spain,  only  a 
careful  and  impartial  consideration  of  his  methods, 
and  of  their  immediate  and  later  fruits,  can  deter-  4 
mine.  Certain  it  is,  that  viewed  from  this  distance 
of  time,  and  in  the  light  of  the  fact  that  the  tribes 
began  to  waste  away  almost  from  the  hour  the  effort 
was  inaugurated,  those  fifty  or  sixty  years  of  Cath- 
olic attempt  at  uplifting  and  Christianizing  the  un- 
tutored race,  form  not  a very  satisfactory  chapter 
in  the  history  of  civilization. 

Nevertheless,  the  entire  history  of  the  period 
attests  the  fact  that  the  Padre  Junipero  Serra  him- 
self ardently  desired  to  be  a true  missionary  of  the 
cross  and  messenger  of  blessing  to  the  rude  red 
man.  And  if  his  work  failed  at  all  of  the  ends  he 
sought,  it  should  be  attributed  most  to  the  methods 
and  the  paralyzing  genius  of  the  ecclesiastical 
power  to  which  he  was  responsible.  The  eminent 
man  lacked  neither  love  for  the  Indian  nor  devotion 
to  his  work.  This,  all  Californians  concede,  regard- 
less of  sect  or  creed.  And  unquestionably  it  was 
in  reference  to  him,  as  a man  who  desired  the  good 
of  the  lowest  of  his  race,  and  not  as  a priest  of  the 


A MINISTER  TO  THE  LOWLIEST. 


219 


Catholic  Church,  that  the  citizens  of  the  State, 
rather  generally,  were  interested  in  the  step  to  honor 
his  memory.  His  name  is  inseparable  from  the 
early  history  of  California,  and  in  his  personal 
record  is  the  attraction  of  a spirit  of  great  self- 
denial.  For  these  reasons  I take  notice  of  this 
passing  movement. 

Junipero  Serra  was  a native  of  the  Island  of 
Majorca,  Spain,  having  been  born  November  24, 
1713.  He  was  small  in  stature,  of  feeble  constitu- 
tion, and  “ possessed  a great  love  for  books.”  Re- 
ligiously inclined,  he  at  the  early  age  of  seventeen 
applied  to  the  order  of  Franciscans  for  membership. 
A year  later  he  was  admitted  to  full  cbmpanionship 
in  the  fraternity,  and  addressed  himself  to  the  study 
of  theology  and  philosophy,  soon  excelling  as  a 
teacher  of  these  subjects.  Immediately,  also,  he 
became  celebrated  as  a pulpit  orator,  but,  indifferent 
to  the  applause  of  city  communities,  he  craved  the 
privilege  of  preaching  the  gospel  to  the  peasantry, 
especially  desiring  to  minister  to  any  who  had  never 
heard  its  conditions. 

With  this  object  in  view  he  sailed  for  the  New 
AVorld,  from  Cadiz,  August  28,  1749,  and  entered 
Mexico  on  New-YeaFs  Day,  1750.  Beginning 
missionary  labors  at  once,  and  with  great  ardor,  his 


220 


CALIFORNIA . 


name  quickly  became  known  in  the  Catholic  Church 
of  Mexico.  After  seventeen  years  of  service  in 
that  part  of  the  country,  he  was  appointed  president 
of  the  fifteen  missions  then  existing  in  the  Penin- 
sula of  California,  and  which  had  been  founded  by 
the  Order  of  Jesuits,  whom  the  government  had 
just  expelled.  Here  Serra  found  a field  as  needy, 
a people  as  abject,  as  he  could  wish  for  his  training 
hand.  It  proved  a territory  far  more  difficult  to 
cultivate  than  any  the  scholarly  prelate  had  known, 
and  in  the  course  of  time  it  was  turned  over  to  the 
Dominicans.  Then,  himself  and  sixteen  subordi- 
nates set  out  on  a missionary  tour  among  the 

heathen  tribes* of  Alta  California. 

» 

Reaching  the  point  on  the  coast  where  to-day 
stands  the  city  of  San  Diego,  seventeen  miles  north 
of  the  present  frontier  of  Mexico,  he  there  estab- 
lished, July  16,  1769,  the  first  of  the  series  of 
twenty-one  missions  embraced  in  what  is  now  the 
State  of  California.  The  last  of  the  series,  that  of 
San  Francisco  de  Solano,  was  erected  August  25, 
1823.  Ten  years  later  this  mission  invoiced  its 
possessions  as  follows:  “ Indian  converts,  fifteen 
hundred;  cattle  and  horses,  thirty-five  hundred; 
goats  and  hogs,  four  thousand;  fruits  and  grain, 
three  thousand  bushels.  Nineteen  years  afterward, 


A MINISTER  OF  THE  LOWLIEST 


221 


or  in  1842,  there  were,  it  is  said,  but  seventy  Indians 
amenable  to  this  mission. 

From  San  Diego,  whose*  mission  church  still 
stands,  unroofed,  with  its  walls  crumbling  to  ruin, 
Father  Serra  moved  northward  to  the  lovely  bay  of 
Monterey.  Here,  June  3,  1770,  he  planted  his  sec- 
ond station,  at  the  head  of  that  sheet  of  water. 
Twelve  months  later  the  mission  was  transferred  to 
the  beautiful  Carmelo  Valley,  some  five  miles  down 
the  coast  from  Monterey.  Here,  in  time,  rose  a 
church  edifice,  a house  for  the  priests,  and  barracks 
for  the  mission’s  handful  of  military  protectors. 
These  were  all  built  of  wood,  and  with  the  excep- 
tion of  the  church,  were  covered  with  tules.  The 
latter  was  roofed  simply  with  earth. 

From  Carmelo  it  is  claimed  that  Serra  explored 
the  coast  as  far  northward  as  the  fifty-fifth  parallel, 
taking  possession,  “in  the  name  of  the  Church  and 
the  King  of  Spain,”  of  all  the  territory  comprised 
in  California,  Oregon,  and  Washington.  Returning 
to  the  mission  on  the  Little  Carmelo  River,  he  there 
filled  up  the  remainder  of  his  days  with  self-denying 
labors  among  the  surrounding  Indian  tribes;  and 
there,  greatly  lamented  by  the  simple-minded  na- 
tives to  whom  he  had  faithfully  ministered,  he 
breathed  his  last,  just  one  hundred  years  ago. 


222 


CALIFORNIA . 


By  his  special  request,  his  remains  were  interred 
“in  the  sanctuary  of  the  church,  on  the  gospel  side 
of  the  altar.”  In  the  progress  of  years  this  build- 
ing fell  into  decay,  and  was  replaced  by  a structure 
of  stone,  erected  on  the  same  site,  and  covering 
the  cherished  remains  of  Junipero  Serra.  In  turn 
this  edifice  also  lapsed  into  ruin ; and  it  is  the 
question  of  its  restoration  which  has  this  Summer 
drawn  all  Catholic  eyes  toward  the  little  city  of 
Monterey. 

Recalling  that  the  centennial  of  the  great  mis- 
sionary’s death  was  imminent,  the  pastor  of  the 
Catholic  Church,  at  Monterey,  “ was  moved  early 
in  the  season  to  ask  all  Californians,  irrespective  of 
creed  or  color,  to  show  respect  to  the  man’s  mem- 
ory, by  handsomely  restoring  the  ruin  which  had 
so  long  served  as  a monument  over  his  grave.” 
The  newspapers  took  up  his  appeal ; talked  elo- 
quently of  the  self-denying  spirit  of  Padre  Junipero 
Serra;  of  his  manifold  services  to  California  and 
to  its  aboriginal  tribes;  of  the  fact  that  most  of  the 
missions  he  planted  are  well  on  the  way  to  decay, 
and  urged  that  the  church  at  Carmelo  should,  out 
of  gratitude,  be  preserved.  The  many  Spaniards, 
Mexicans,  and  other  Catholics  of  the  coast  were 
much  aroused  by  these  pleas,  and  contributed  liber- 


A MINISTER  OF  THE  LOWLIEST . 


228 


ally  to  the  object.  Other  citizens  of  the  State  also 
aided  the  cause  generously. 

Sufficient  enthusiasm  having  been  awakened  to 
insure  success,  the  work  of  renovation  began,  and  in 
good  time  was  completed.  On  the  28th  of  August, 
1884,  the  old-new  monument  church  was  blessed 
with  the  customary  Catholic  ceremonial,  many  dig- 
nitaries of  the  Church  being  present,  as  were  some 
State  officials,  and  a large  concourse  of  other  per- 
sons. The  ceremonies  were  of  both  a civic  and 
religious  character. 

The  renewal  of  the  building  was  effected  at  a 
cost  of  sixteen  thousand  dollars,  and  now  presents 
a curious  mingling  of  ancient  and  modern  archi- 
tecture and  decoration.  The  structure  really  serves 
the  double  purpose  of  a house  of  worship  and  a 
mausoleum.  Upon  the  hearts  of  the  Catholics  the 
spot  has  a great  hold.  Through  his  whole  life,  I 
believe,  Junipero  Serra  was  a subject  of  great  per- 
sonal suffering,  rendering  his  work  all  the  more 
arduous.  Certain  it  is  that  most  of  his  days  in 
California  were  passed  in  physical  agony,  which  was 
partly  the  result  of  a frail  constitution,  and  partly 
the  fruit  of  exposure  in  founding  the  missions. 

Of  the  twenty-one  missions  planted  in  Upper 
California,  nine  are  said  to  have  been  established 


224 


CALIFORNIA . 


by  Serra  in  person.  These  were,  besides  the  two 
already  named,  that  of  San  Juan  Capistrano,  the 
first  station  north  of  San  Diego.  The  church  is 
described  as  a splendid  ruin.  It  was  demolished 
by  an  earthquake  one  morning  while  mass  was 
being  celebrated,  and  the  building  was  thronged 
with  people.  Thirty  persons  lost  their  lives,  and 
many  were  injured.  Services  have  always  been 
held  in  one  of  its  little  chapels.  “A  priest  resides 
there,  and  ekes  out  a scanty  living  by  renting  some 
of  the  crumbling  rooms.”  That  of  San  Gabriel, 
lying  twelve  miles  east  of  Los  Angeles,  in  one  of 
the  garden  spots  of  Southern  California;  that  of 
San  Buena  Ventura,  near  the  sea-board,  twenty- 
seven  miles  south  of  Santa  Barbara;  that  of  Santa 
Barbara  itself,  if  I remember  correctly,  one  of  the 
richest  of  the  series;  that  of  San  Antonio,  located 
on  the  bank  of  a fine  stream  some  miles  from  Sol- 
edad ; that  of  San  Luis  Obispo,  in  the  heart  of  the 
town  of  that  name,  and  that  of  Santa  Clara,  three 
miles  from  San  Jose.  This  church  is  a large  struc- 
ture, and  “is  the  best  preserved  of  the  list.”  It 
once  possessed  a vast  domain  of  productive  acres. 

Establishing  the  mission  of  San  Buena  Ventura 
was  Padre  Serra’s  last  work  in  extending  the  realm 
of  the  Catholic  Church.  Twenty-eight  months 


A MINISTER  OF  THE  LOWLIEST . 


225 


later,  at  Carmelo,  he  entered  upon  his  final  sleep. 
The  Ventura  mission  was  founded  March  31, 
1782,  with  jurisdiction  over  fifteen  hundred  square 
miles  of  territory.  Before  the  sequestration  of  the 
missions  it  had  acquired  large  possessions  in  flocks 
and  herds  also. 

“ The  dominant  idea  in  that  really  imposing 
missionary  movement,”  said  a gentleman  yesterday, 
who,  though  not  a Catholic,  has  through  a long  life 
been  closely  associated  with  members  of  that  body, 
and  has  observed  its  methods  of  extending  its 
power,  “was,  that  within  the  period  of  one  genera- 
tion at  most,  whole  tribes  of  the  rude,  idol-worshiping 
Indians  could,  under  the  teachings  of  the  Church, 
the  influence  of  the  priests,  and  the  restraints  of 
the  Spanish  soldiery,  be  transformed  into  perma- 
nently civilized  and  Christianized  societies.  It  was 
believed  they  could  then  be  left  to  pursue  works 
of  piety  and  arts  of  peace  under  a civil  adminis- 
trator. The  fatal  defect  in  this  reasoning  was,  to 
speak  mildly,  forgetfulness  of  the  physiological  fact 
that  blood,  which  has  been  deteriorating  through 
centuries  of  time,  can  not  be  restored  to  prime 
quality  in  the  short  space  of  forty  or  fifty  years. 

“As  might  have  been  foreseen,  the  whole  scheme 
was  a failure.  And  no  person  who  has  ever  written 


226 


CALIFORNIA. 


upon  the  swift  decadence  of  these  Indian  missions 
has  touched  the  real  cause.  This,  unquestionably, 
was  their  sequestration  by  the  Mexican  government. 
The  moment  the  supreme  control  which  the  mis- 
sionary fathers  exercised  over  the  neophytes  of 
their  respective  stations  was  superseded  by  the  rule 
of  secular  administrators,  that  moment  the  majority 
of  the  Indians  left  the  missions  and  returned  to  the 
haunts  of  their  ancestors,  or  sought  employment  on 
the  ranchos  of  citizens  friendly  to  them.  Every 
attempt  made  between  1830  and  1840  to  convert 
the  neophytes  into  free  and  property-holding  citi- 
zens, as  was  the  case  at  the  missions  of  San  Diego, 
San  Luis  Rey,  San  Juan  Capistrano,  and  San  Juan 
Baptiste,  proved  miserable  failures.  The  Indians 
soon  showed  that  they  had  not  acquired  the  power 
to  retain  the  property  left  in  their  hands,  nor  to 
obtain  more.  It  was  the  purpose  of  the  Mexican 
government  to  leave  in  the  hands  of  the  converts 
all  the  land  and  other  property  belonging  to  the 
missions,  as  an  outfit  at  the  beginning  of  their  self- 
governing  career.  But  in  a brief  time  the  immense 
wealth  of  the  stations  was  irrevocably  scattered.” 


XXVI. 


I^oses— Pampas  Gi^ass— ©he  Datura 

Pi^boi^ea. 


NE  of  the  chief  attractions  of  Southern  Cali- 


fornia is  its  beautiful  and  ceaseless  product  of 
flowers.  Some  of  those  which  bloom  the  year  round 
have  a special  season  of  efflorescence — a time  when 
they  reach  their  maximum  of  abundance  and  beauty. 
If  I might  select  a single  flower  of  which  this  is 
true,  I should  name  the  rose.  The  month  of  May  is 
pre-eminently  the  rose  period  of  the  year,  although 
there  is  never  a day  without  them,  and  never  a 
dearth  of  them. 

A walk  at  evening,  during  this  month,  through 
some  of  the  streets  of  Los  Angeles  inevitably  brings 
to  mind  an  enchanting  story  about  the  Vale  of  Cash- 
mere,  which  I read  in  my  childhood,  in  the  State 
of  New  York.  It  was  the  power  of  contrast  which 
made  the  story  produce  its  ineffaceable  impression 
upon  my  mind.  I read  it  in  midwinter.  The 
snow  covered  the  high  rail  fence  which  lined  the 
public  road  leading  to  the  country  school  which  I 


227 


228 


CALIFORNIA . 


attended.  I walked  to  school  on  the  crest  of  those 
snow-drifts.  I read  it  before  a great  fire  made  of 
hickory  logs,  which  snapped  and  hissed  merrily  in 
the  big  fire-place.  The  heat  from  it  burned  my 
round  face,  and  warped  the  leather  covers  of  the 
book.  But  I was  wandering  in  a land  flooded  with 
sunshine,  full  of  bloom,  and  breathing  air  laden 
with  perfume.  I wondered  if  the  story  were  true; 
if  I should  ever  see  a land  so  fair;  should  smell 
roses  so  fragrant.  Happily  for  my  faith  in  that 
book,  I now  see  roses  as  beautiful,  breathe  air 
as  highly  scented  as  ever  floated  over  the  sweet 
Vale  of  Cashmere. 

On  my  way  to  Presbyterian  prayer-meeting  on 
Wednesday  evenings  I pass  a beautifully  kept 
ground,  in  which  bloom,  probably,  a dozen  varie- 
ties of  roses.  Among  them  are  the  Safrano,  the 
Solfaterre,  the  bright  Sanguinea*  and  the  delicious 
Marechal  Neil,  besides  five  or  six  pink  varieties, 
whose  exquisite  odor  no  language  can  describe. 
Climbing  higher  than  any  of  the  others,  is  the  ele- 
gant Lamarque,  pouring  into  the  atmosphere  from 
hundreds  of  blossoms  a delightful  perfume. 

If  I am  alone,  the  moment  I approach  that  yard 
I begin  to  walk  slowly,  and  to  take  in  great 
draughts  of  the  fragrant  air.  When  opposite  some  of 


ROSES . 


229 


the  bushes  I stand  still,  inhale  the  odor,  and  try  to 
think  what  the  perfume  of  flowers  is.  I recall  all  the 
words  which  have  any  aroma  in  them,  and  neither 
singly  nor  together  do  they  express  what  I want  to 
know.  So  I walk  on,  wishing  it  were  a mile  to  the 
church,  and  that  elegant  roses  lined  all  the  way. 

Yesterday  afternoon  an  errand  took  me  through 
Lower  Third  Street  to  Main.  On  one  side  stands  a 
fine  residence  in  the  midst  of  trees  and  flowers.  At 
the  right  of  the  entrance  were  a half-dozen  rose- 
trees,  four  or  five  feet  in  height.  The  flexible 
branches  bent  under  their  burden  of  bloom.  The 
warm  air  was  dense  with  the  mingled  odors  of  the 
flowers.  Separating  this  yard  from  its  neighbor 
was  a high  fence.  Over  the  top  of  it  for  many  feet, 
down  both  its  sides,  and  up  among  the  branches  of 
a cypress  and  another  tree  standing  near,  climbed 
a luxuriant  Lamarque  and  a magnificent  Cloth  of 
Gold,  both  a mass  of  flowers,  large  and  very  double. 
It  was  a sight  to  make  one  stop  and  look. 

In  the  adjoining  yard  was  a cottage  finished,  with 
a veranda  across  the  front.  Up  the  pillars  of  the 
veranda,  and  over  its  roof  the  whole  length,  ran 
another  Lamarque  and  a rich  Marechal  Neil.  The 
result  was  a dense  surface,  from  three  to  four  feet 
wide  by  forty  feet  long,  probably,  of  pure  white 


230 


CALIFORNIA. 


and  soft  yellow  flowers,  the  whole  forming  the  most 
beautiful  display  of  living  roses  I had  ever  seen.  In 
the  yard  stood  a Safrano  rose-tree,  five  or  more  feet 
in  height,  and  canopied  with  blossoms  of  matchless 
scent.  Imagine  those  yards,  that  fence,  that  ve- 
randa! What  a place  for  intoxicating  the  senses! 
What  a pity  that  the  Chinese — Americans,  too — do 
not  smoke  rose-leaves! 

It  is  quite  customary  on  the  Coast  to  compel 
rose-bushes  to  grow  in  the  form  of  small  trees. 
The  effect  is  very  pretty.  At  the  top  of  a slender 
trunk  shoot  out  a multitude  of  short  branches, 
forming  a canopy  about  the  size  of  a sun-umbrella. 
Here  the  vitality  centers,  and,  per  consequence,  the 
sprays  are  lavish  in  bloom.  At  the  same  time,  the 
strength  of  the  tree  is  well  husbanded,  for  the  mo- 
ment a rose  begins  to  fade  it  is  removed,  if  the 
gardener  does  his  duty. 

Not  far  from  where  I writers  a rose  tree,  with 
trunk  as  large  around  as  my  arm.  The  first 
branches  are  some  six  feet  above  the  ground,  and 
are  trimmed  to  present  a flat  surface  to  the  sky. 
The  effect  is  an  even  plane  of  delicate  salmon-colored 
roses — a novelty  even  in  Southern  California. 

A very  charming  class  of  roses  to  be  seen  here 
are  the  Banksias.  There  are  three  varieties,  white, 


BOSES. 


231 


pink,  and  yellow,  all  bountiful  bloomers  and  ex- 
ceedingly fragrant.  The  blossoms  are  about  the 
size  of  a large  daisy,  and  usually  are  very  double. 
They  grow  with  astonishing  rapidity.  When  riding 
into  the  country  with  a friend  not  long  ago,  she 
suddenly  exclaimed,  “Just  look!” 

Her  object  was  to  call  my  attention  to  a white 
banksia,  which  had  climbed  into  the  feathery  top 
of  a tall  cypress,  and  then  thrust  its  slender  sprays 
all  through  the  green  boughs,  so  that  they  fell 
toward  the  ground  on  the  side  next  the  street,  like 
a veil  of  snow.  That,  too,  was  a very  striking 
sight. 

Among  the  flowers  which  diffuse  a fine  perfume 
at  night,  as  well  as  during  the  day,  are  the  carna- 
tions, the  orange  blossoms,  and  the  large,  white, 
funnel-shaped  blossoms  of  the  Datura  Arborea,  a 
native  of  Peru  and  Columbia.  The  flowers  consist 
of  two  corollas,  one  dropped  within  the  other,  as 
we  would  place  a small  funnel  within  a larger  one. 
Both  are  ruffled  slightly  at  the  mouth,  and  remind 
one  of  the  calla  lily,  but  are  far  more  delicate  in 
texture.  They  hang  pendulous  from  the  branches 
of  the  trees,  and  will  average  nine  inches  in  length. 
A number  of  the  blossoms  given  me  recently,  meas- 
ured twelve  inches.  I pass  a Datura  daily  on  my 


232 


CALIFORNIA . 


way  to  the  post-office.  From  the  lower  branches, 
which  strike  out  nearly  at  right  angles  from  the 
trunk,  depend  a myriad  of  white,  waxy-looking 
funnels.  The  fragrance  from  them  never  fails  to 
send  my  imagination  off  on  a trip  to  the  Orient. 

The  carnations  have  a remarkably  aromatic  per- 
fume which  I have  failed  to  notice  in  the  pinks 
of  the  East.  Nine  handsome  varieties  flower  be- 
neath my  windows,  which  are  opened  all  night  to 
let  the  breath  of  the  beauties  come  in.  What  a 
sense  of  luxury  they  impart,  perfuming  one’s  very 
sleep ! 

Pampas  plumes,  the  regal  blossoms  of  the  Gy- 
nerium  Argenteum,  made  their  appearance  in  the 
East  but  a few  years  ago.  They  were  not  then  the 
article  of  commerce  they  now  are.  Usually  they 
were  seen  only  in  homes  where  some  member  of  the 
family  had  wandered  away  to  this  coast,  and  coming 
upon  the  elegant  plant,  had  sent  home  one  or  two 
of  the  graceful  flowers  to  adorn  the  best  room.  I 
well  remember  the  first  time  I saw  them.  Three 
of  the  stately  plumes  drooped  from  a large  vase  in 
a friends’  parlor.  They  were  broad  and  heavy,  with 
a rich  cream  color  next  the  long  stem,  and  a silver 
hue  at  the  edges.  They  had  a sort  of  royal  look, 
as  has  a long  ostrich  plume. 


PAMPAS  GRASS. 


233 


The  silver  gynerium  is  a native  of  the  pampas 
of  Southern  Brazil  and  lower  plains  of  South  Amer- 
ica, where  its  appearance  is  very  showy.  As  now 
cultivated  in  Southern  California,  it  rivals  the  plant 
on  its  original  prairies.  Perhaps  I can  sketch  the 
product  for  the  reader.  Imagine  immense  tufts  of 
long,  narrow,  tough,  finely  saw-edged,  green  leaves, 
all  sharply  reflexed  at  the  middle,  and  rising  from 
the  center  of  the  tufts,  fifty  or  one  hundred  splendid 
plumes  or  blossoms,  averaging  from  two  to  three 
feet  in  length,  and  swaying  from  the  top  of  slender 
stems  twelve  or  fourteen  feet  in  height.  This  paints 
you  pampas  grass  as  it  may  be  seen  here  early  in 
September,  the  time  for  harvesting  the  flowers,  if 
I mistake  not. 

Heretofore  Santa  Barbara,  ninety  miles  further 
north,  has  had  the  pre-eminence  in  the  cultivation 
of  this  splendid  plant.  The  climate  being  almost 
tropical,  like  that  of  Los  Angeles,  many  foreign 
products,  native  to  such  latitudes,  flourish  there 
finely.  This  year,  however,  the  florists  of  this  city 
have  rivaled  it  in  the  production  of  the  gynerium. 
The  blossoms  of  the  Los  Angeles  seedling  variety 
are  the  firmest  known  on  the  coast.  They  are  of  a 
rich  cream  tint  at  the  center,  very  feathery  through- 
out, and  measure  from  twenty-four  to  thirty-six 

20 


234 


CALIFORNIA . 


inches  in  length.  It  is  the  unusual  breadth  of  the 
flowers  which  distinguishes  this  variety. 

OTHER  GYNERIUMS. 

It  is  said  that  the  great  conservatories  of  Bel- 
gium grow  not  only  the  gynerium  of  this  coast,  but 
also  some  other  varieties,  the  leaves  of  which  are 
very  handsome,  being  striped  with  white  or  yellow. 
It  is  doubtful,  though,  if  these  grasses  belong  to  the 
same  family  as  the  Brazilian  pampas.  Very  proba- 
bly they  belong  to  the  Eulalia  group,  grasses  which, 
in  this  country,  are  very  effective  in  lawn  ornamen- 
tation. In  one  variety  bars  of  white  cross  the 
leaves,  adding  immensely  to  the  beauty  of  the  plant. 

A fairly  ornamental  plant,  possessing  marked 
pampas  characteristics,  is  produced  now  by  eastern 
florists.  It  is  a member  of  the  Erianthus  family, 
and  like  the  true  gynerium,  may  be  propagated  from 
the  seed,  or  by  dividing  the  root.  The  flower  stems 
shoot  up  to  a height  of  eight  or  ten  feet,  and  the 
blossom  makes  a great  effort  to  equal  the  plumes 
of  the  latter. 

The  South  American  pampas  craves  water.  The 
result  of  liberal  hydropathic  treatment  in  its  cul- 
ture may  be  seen  at  a florist’s  on  Los  Angeles  Street. 
One  side  the  premises  are  bounded  by  a zanga. 


OTHER  G YNERTUMS. 


235 


through  which  flows  a stream  of  muddy  water  from 
the  irrigating  reservoir.  One  bank  of  the  stream 
is  bordered  with  gigantic  clumps  of  this  plant.  A 
forest  of  stems,  topped  out  with  regal  plumes,  rises 
from  the  midst  of  each.  So  interwoven  are  the 
saw-edged  leaves  that  to  pass  between  the  tufts  is  an 
impossibility. 


XXVII. 

0?OMEN  AS  (§>ULTIYATOI^S  OF  THE  SOIL. 


NE  day  in  June  last  the  writer  was  one  of  a 


dozen  passengers  in  the  “morning  stage ” from 
Los  Angeles  to  Pasadena.  The  vehicle  was  not 
one  of  those  oval-shaped,  springy,  swaying  coaches 
which,  as  I fancied  in  my  childhood,  insure  the 
very  perfection  of  carriage  riding,  and  which  the 
traveler  of  the  present  day  may  test,  should  he  ever 
cross  the  rugged  Siskiyou  Mountains  in  one  of  the 
coaches  of  the  Oregon  and  California  stage-line,  but 
was  a long,  four-seated  conveyance,  with  high, 
square  top  and  open  sides.  From  it  we  could  ob- 
tain a fine  view  of  the  picturesque  country  for  miles 
around. 

The  passengers  were  all  in  their  seats  only  one- 
half  hour  after  the  time,  and  presently  the  four-in- 
hand  dashed  off  from  the  cigar-store  in  Temple 
Block,  claiming  to  be  the  head-quarters  of  the  stage 
company.  The  little  seven-by-nine  room  is  by  no 
means  a pleasant  waiting  point  for  ladies,  and  I 
being  usually  ahead  of  time  when  setting  out  on 


236 


WOMEN  AS  CULTIVATORS  OF  THE  SOIL.  237 

such  a jaunt,  had  the  pleasure  of  seeing  no  end  of 
money  set  fire  to,  in  little  slender  rolls  of  tobacco, 
during  the  hour  I watched  for  the  stage. 

The  morning  was  cloudy.  The  atmosphere  was 
laden  with  chilling  moisture,  which  the  breeze  drove 
sharply  into  our  faces.  Anywhere  in  the  East, 
under  such  circumstances,  an  all-day  rain  might 
confidently  have  been  predicted;  but  in  Southern 
California  it  “ never  rains  when  it  does,”  so  we  were 
not  disappointed  to  see  the  mist  drift  away  long 
before  noon.  Then  down  came  the  genial  sunlight, 
making  the  earth  and  ourselves  rejoice. 

Our  road  twice  crossed  the  Arroyo  Secco,  a 
chatty  stream  flowing  from  the  Sierra  Madre.  All 
around,  the  country  was  covered  with  wrinkles, 
like  an  aged  face  furrowed  by  years  of  care.  Now 
we  sped  across  a pretty  valley,  decked  with  vener- 
able live-oaks,  ever  green,  and  singularly  effective 
in  the  landscape,  but  some  of  them  painfully  dis- 
torted in  shape.  Now  we  were  borne  up  a long  hiH, 
from  whose  top  we  had  a view  of  scenes  quite 
worthy  the  brush  which  put  the  Yo-Semite  on 
canvas. 

Upon  the  seat  beside  me  sat  an  intelligent  lady 
from  some  town  in  Iowa.  She  had  been  on  a visit 
to  Elsinore,  a new  colony  springing  up,  with  fair 


238 


CALIFORNIA. 


prospects,  not  far  from  Riverside.  Her  husband,  as 
I soon  learned,  was  one  of  its  projectors,  and,  as 
was  entirely  proper,  she  appeared  to  be  much  inter- 
ested in  the  sale  of  Elsinore  lots.  She  quietly  advised 
a young  man,  forming  the  third  party  on  our  seat, 
and  evidently  just  catching  the  real-estate  fever,  to 
“see  Elsinore  before  investing  elsewhere  in  South- 
ern California.”  That  was  kind  of  her.  The  new 
town  occupies  a location  as  charming  as  is  its  name, 
on  the  border  of  Elsinore  Lake,  where  it  would  be 
delightful  to  dwell.  The  place  has  advantages  all 
its  own,  and  might  exactly  meet  the  wants  and 
means  of  this  stranger.  If  so,  two  men  had  been 
helped. 

It  is  very  noticeable  how  quickly  bright-minded 
women  from  other  parts  of  the  country  become 
interested,  and  then  engaged,  in  real-estate  transac- 
tions on  this  coast.  It  is  worthy  of  remark,  too, 
what  ability  they  display  in  the  business,  and  what 
success  they  achieve.  Some  one  has  said  that  as 
large  a proportion  of  women  as  men,  increase  their 
fortunes  by  this  sort  of  trade.  They  are  quick  to 
discern  the  favorable  or  unfavorable  points  in  a piece 
of  property,  and  seem  to  know  when  they  have  re- 
ceived a good  offer  from  a purchaser. 

A friend  recently  informed  me  that  of  a certain 


WOMEN  AS  CULTIVATORS  OF  THE  SOIL.  239 


large  tract  of  land  near  the  city,  which  was  put  on 
the  market  lately  in  small  lots,  nearly  one-half  the 
buyers  were  women;  and  also,  that  it  is  not  a rare 
thing  for  numbers  of  feminine  speculators  to  attend 
the  auction  sales  of  land  frequently  taking  place, 
and  to  bid  quietly  but  intelligently  for  the  property. 

Of  the  sixty-five  or  more  women  employed  as 
teachers  in  the  public  schools  of  Los  Angeles,  there 
is  scarcely  one  who  is  not  the  owner  of  land  some- 
where in  the  State.  Numbers  of  women  on  the 
coast — in  California,  in  Oregon — personally  super- 
intend considerable  farms,  the  titles  to  which  are  in 
their  own  name.  They  themselves  make  the  sales 
of  the  crops.  In  some  instances  they  have  brought 
their  land  up  to  a high  figure  by  putting  it  under 
fine  cultivation.  Of  the  five  women  who  happen  to 
be  at  this  moment  in  the  house  where  I write,  all 
possess  land  in  or  near  the  city. 

Much  has  been  said  about  an  educated  and  sen- 
sible young  woman  who,  with  her  invalid  father, 
resides  in  one  of  the  colonies  not  very  distant  from 
Los  Angeles.  She  is  the  owner  of  a raisin  vine- 
yard of  ten  or  more  acres,  every  vine  in  which  was 
planted  by  her  own  hands.  The  vineyard  is  now 
in  full  bearing.  Every  year  she  superintends  the 
picking,  curing,  and  packing  of  her  crop,  and  makes 


240 


CALIFORNIA . 


her  own  terms  with  the  dealers.  I think  she  is  the 
possessor  also  of  ten  acres  of  orange  trees,  in  thrifty 
condition.  The  story  goes  that  when  the  little  cot- 
tage in  which  they  live  was  in  process  of  erection, 
the  roof  being  unfinished,  a severe  storm  threat- 
ened. This  made  it  necessary  for  the  father — his 
own  carpenter,  I presume — to  have  aid  in  the  shin- 
gling. None  being  obtainable  in  the  small  town, 
the  indomitable  girl  climbed  to  the  roof,  and  laid 
shingles  until  the  work  was  complete,  acquitting 
herself  as  creditably  at  carpentry  as  she  does  at 
raisin-making. 

I am  now  obliged  to  add  that,  no  sooner  had 
this  brave,  energetic  girl  acquired  her  pretty  home, 
and  become  well  advanced  toward  competency,  than 
there  chanced  that  way  a Methodist  minister,  who, 
admiring  her  noble  qualities,  invited  her  to  become 
his  wife.  And  she,  pleased  with  the  idea,  accepted 
the  invitation,  and  is  about  to  be  married. 

In  the  same  village  live  two  sisters,  young 
women  from  Wisconsin,  who,  with  a widowed 
mother,  came  to  the  place  but  a few  years  ago.  With 
their  slender  means  they  purchased  a few  acres  of 
land  near,  and  soon  had  growing  upon  it  a raisin 
vineyard  and  an  orange  grove,  much  of  the  labor 
of  planting  them  being  performed  with  their  own 


WOMEN  AS  CULTIVATORS  OF  THE  SOIL.  241 


hands.  While  their  vines  and  trees  were  growing, 
one  of  them,  a girl  rarely  endowed,  applied  for  the 
position  of  postmaster  in  the  community,  and  re- 
ceived the  appointment,  “her  application  being  in- 
dorsed by  nearly  every  voter  in  the  town.” 

About  this  time  the  Southern  Pacific  Railway, 
learning  that  she  was  an  accomplished  telegrapher, 
gave  her  important  employment  in  that  occupation, 
her  sister  becoming  her  efficient  deputy  in  the  post- 
office.  These  young  women  are  the  daughters  of  a 
Congregational  clergyman  who  died  some  years  ago, 
and  are,  of  course,  cultured,  Christian  girls.  Their 
womanly  ways,  promptness,  and  conscientious  dis- 
charge of  duty,  as  daughters,  in  the  Church,  in 
society,  in  business,  have  won  them  the  good  will 
and  respect  of  all  parties.  As  a result  of  economy 
and  judicious  investments  in  real  estate,  their  com- 
bined fortune  now,  at  the  close  of  about  five  years, 
amounts  to  some  sixteen  thousand  dollars. 

We  are  now  well  on  the  way  to  Pasadena.  Sud- 
denly the  four-in-hand  wheel  into  a flower-bordered 
drive-way  on  our  right.  Then  comes  to  view  a trim 
little  cottage  crowning  one  of  the  “wrinkles.”  Now 
out  of  the  front  door-way  bound  two  or  three  young 
children,  shouting  “Mamma!”  After  them  comes 

a babe  in  somebody’s  arms.  The  place  was  the 

21 


242 


CALIFORNIA, 


home,  these  were  the  children,  of  the  lady  from 
Elsinore.  Ourselves  happy  over  the  welcome  she 
received,  we  bade  her  adieu,  turned  back  to  the 
main  road,  and  began  climbing  Hermosa  Vista  Hill, 
one  of  the  sightliest  eminences  in  all  this  picturesque 
region,  and,  as  has  been  said  in  a previous  chapter, 
the  seat  of  a college  for  young  men. 

The  summit  gained,  a short  time  brought  us 
into  Orange  Grove  Avenue,  the  finest  street  in 
Pasadena.  Throughout  its  entire  length  vineyards, 
orange  groves,  inviting  grounds,  and  comfortable 
abodes  grace  both  sides.  Speeding  on  a couple  of 
miles,  we  at  last  turned  into  the  broad,  arched  gate- 
way at  Carmelita,  the  beautiful  home  of  Dr.  Ezra 
S.  Carr  and  his  family.  Here  the  stage  left  the 
writer  for  a twenty-four  hours’  sojourn.  As  we 
wound  through  the  drive-way  to  the  house,  we  no- 
ticed among  the  great  variety  of  choice  trees  in  the 
grounds,  cedars  from  Lebanon,  India,  Norway,  Ore- 
gon, and  the  Norfolk  Islands;  also,  the  maple,  but- 
ternut, mulberry,  palm,  bamboo,  several  species 
of  eucalypti — natives  of  Australia — and  the  sturdy 
sequoia,  of  Calaveras  stock,  with  other  home  and 
foreign  trees. 

Carmelita  is  intended  to  suggest  not  only  the 
name  of  its  proprietor,  but  also  Mount  Carmel,  in 


WOMEN  AS  CULTIVATORS  OF  THE  SOIL.  243 


Syria.  Naturally  it  calls  up  the  clays  of  Elijah,  and 
the  scenes  of  the  august  miracle  which  took  place 
on  that  summit,  with  its  attendant  human  slaughter. 
The  cottage,  framed  in  with  flowers  and  vines,  occu- 
pies the  crown  of  a long  descent  toward  the  east. 
In  the  foreground,  on  that  side,  stands  an  apricot 
orchard  in  splendid  condition.  Beyond  that,  a part 
of  the  lovely  village  comes  into  the  picture.  Far- 
ther away,  stretches  the  rich  San  Gabriel  Valley. 
On  the  left,  three  miles  distant,  rise  the  stately 
Sierra  Madre  Mountains.  Thus  are  brought  into 
the  beautiful  panorama  the  extremes  of  scenery. 
Walking  about  the  perfect  grounds  to-day,  noting 
the  scope  of  the  improvements  on  every  hand, 
it  is  difficult  to  persuade  one’s  self  that  seven 
years  have  sufficed  to  produce  fruit  and  forest 
trees  of  such  magnitude;  and  still  more  diffi- 
cult to  believe  the  whole  is  the  result  of  one  little 
woman’s  effort. 

Seven  years  ago — this  account  was  penned  in 
1884 — Doctor  Carr  and  his  family  were  living  in 
the  city  of  Sacramento,  himself  being  the  State 
Superintendent  of  Public  Instruction.  With  health 
impaired  by  forty  years  of  arduous  labor  in  educa- 
tional fields,  he  was  admonished  that  a retreat  where 
rest  could  be  assured,  would  soon  become  a neces- 


244 


CALIFORNIA. 


sity.  This  led  to  the  purchase  of  the  forty  acres 
now  constituting  Carmelita.  They  were  then  a 
mere  barren  waste.  Not  a furrow  had  ever  been 
turned  upon  them.  Soon  after  they  were  acquired 
Mrs.  Carr  left  her  home  in  Sacramento,  came  to 
Pasadena,  set  men  to  breaking  up  the  soil  on  this 
place,  built  a temporary  habitation  for  her  family, 
laid  out  these  now  beautiful  grounds,  and  from  that 
time,  with  great  energy,  carried  forward  her  im- 
provements. At  that  time  Mrs.  Carr  was  the  As- 
sistant State  Superintendent  of  the  Public  Schools 
of  California.  For  years  she  had  been  associated 
with  her  husband  in  educational  work. 

On  many  occasions  during  this  period  had 
women  of  culture  and  ability  sought  her  advice, 
with  reference  to  earning  a livelihood  for  them- 
selves. In  reply  she  had  often  urged  the  obtaining 
a support  from  the  soil,  in  some  one  of  the  many 
pleasant  departments  of  horticulture  possible  in 
California.  Most,  if  not  all  of  them,  had  lacked 
the  courage  to  make  the  attempt.  In  the  develop- 
ment of  her  forty  acres,  therefore,  she  determined 
to  furnish  them  a practical  illustration  of  the  views 
she  had  advocated.  And,  to-day,  Carmelita,  with 
its  many  different  lines  of  production,  is  her  noble, 
self-denying  answer  to  a multitude  of  women 


PASADENA. 


245 


desirous  of  learning  how  they  may  support  them- 
selves, and  provide  something  for  the  future. 

Mrs.  Carr  has  endeavored  to  exemplify  what  a 
woman  may  accomplish  on  a few  acres  of  land  in 
one,  two,  three,  and  four  years,  with  much  or  with 
little  capital.  The  particulars  of  her  effort  are  as 
interesting  as  useful,  but  must  be  excluded  from 
this  volume.  Suffice  it  to  say  that  Carmelita  is,  in 
many  of  its  departments,  a splendid  object-lesson  for 
women  having  families  of  children  to  support.  It 
is  a favorite  project  in  the  mind  of  Mrs.  Carr  to 
some  day  convert  Carmelita  into  a State  school  of 
horticulture  for  women.  May  sire  live  to  do  it! 

Of  Pasadena  itself  all  the  world  has  heard ; how 
attractive  it  is;  how  delightfully  situated,  at  the 
head  of  the  fair  San  Gabriel  Valley;  and  how,  in 
the  space  of  a few  swift  years,  it  sprang  from  a 
desert  state  into  square  miles  of  vineyards  and 
orchards  of  all  kinds.  It  is  the  gem  of  Southern 
California  towns,  and  will  long  remain  such.  Tour- 
ists can  find  no  lovelier  place  to  winter  in.  But 
the  man  of  limited  means,  seeking  a home  there 
for  his  family,  would  be  shut  out  by  the  high  price 
of  land. 


XXVIII. 


San  I? edi^o. 


SAN  PEDRO  is  a name  one  hears  daily  in  South- 
ern California.  Every  traveler,  bound  up  or 
down  the  coast  by  sea,  and  desiring  to  reach  Los 
Angeles,  must  enter  the  place  via  San  Pedro.  Or, 
being  already  in  the  thriving  metropolis,  and  wish- 
ing to  journey  by  water  to  any  point  along  the 
shore,  it  is  San  Pedro  which  opens  the  door  and 
lets  him  out.  To  a great  extent  Australian  coal- 
fields furnish  the  citizens  of  Los  Angeles  their  fuel. 
But  it  can  glow  on  their  hearths  only  after  a hand- 
some fee  for  lighterage  has  been  paid  this  town. 

San  Pedro  is  the  sea-port  of  Los  Angeles 
County,  and  is  therefore  a place  of  some  impor- 
tance, though  but  a mere  hamlet  in  size.  I had 
spent  thirteen  months  in  this  part  of  the  State,  and 
had  not  seen  the  locality.  So  one  morning  last 
week,  a very  dear  friend  accompanying  me,  I deter- 
mined to  make  the  southward  run  to  the  sea. 
Accordingly,  at  half-past  nine  o’clock  we  were  at  the 

Commercial  Street  depot,  in  Los  Angeles,  waiting 
246 


SAN  PEDRO. 


247 


for  the  train.  Every  morning  about  that  hour 
four  trains  halt  there,  bound  to  as  many  different 
parts  of  the  country.  The  small  waiting-room  was 
crowded  with  travelers,  collected  from  every  quarter 
of  the  city.  Outside,  under  the  extended  roof  of 
the  building,  were  congregated  nearly  as  many  more, 
Americans,  Mexicans,  Germans,  Italians,  Chinese, 
and  negroes,  the  same  incongruous  assembly  one  sees 
on  all  such  occasions  in  any  of  these  coast  towns. 

It  was  interesting  to  watch  them.  They  were 
doing  almost  as  many  different  things  as  there  were 
persons — reading,  talking,  calculating  with  a pencil, 
entering  memoranda  in  note-books,  buying  tickets, 
changing  money,  moving  baggage,  studying  the 
costumes  of  the  women.  One  man,  with  fiery  red 
hair,  a hard,  freckled  face,  and  an  expression  of  the 
eye  which  made  one  feel  sick  and  turn  away,  seated 
himself  directly  opposite  us,  and  immediately 
opened  a small  bag  filled  with  Muscat  grapes,  which 
he  began  to  devour  greedily.  Seeds,  pulp,  and 
tough  skin  were  relished  alike.  No  wonder  the 
man’s  face  wore  both  a pale  and  painful  look.  That 
was  one  of  nature’s  punishments  for  his  lack  of 
obedience  to  her  laws.  He  deserved  it. 

Just  as  our  train  appeared  in  sight,  far  down 
Alameda  Street,  a fruit-vender  drove  up  in  front  of 


248 


CALIFORNIA. 


the  station,  with  a load  of  pomegranates,  the  first  I 
had  seen  in  California.  The  fruit  was  about  the 
shape  and  size  of  the  common  quince,  of  a golden, 
yellow  color  on  one  side,  and  rose-tinted  on  the 
other.  Inside  the  pomegranate  is  filled  with  bright, 
red  seeds,  nearly  flat,  and  as  large  as  those  of 
a small  watermelon.  Filled  in  between  them  is 
the  pleasant,  sweetish,  cooling  pulp,  so  grateful  to 
the  taste  in  warm  Asiatic  climates.  The  pomegran- 
ate is  cultivated  with  success  in  this  section  of  the 
State,  and  in  increasing  quantities.  To  what  use 
it  is  put,  except  the  making  of  refreshing  drinks, 
and  eating  out  of  hand,  I have  not  learned.  I 
admired  the  sample  handed  me  by  my  friend  for 
its  beauty,  and  regarded  it  with  interest,  on  ac- 
count of  its  Bible  associations ; but  upon  trying  to 
eat  it,  concluded  that  an  orange,  an  apricot,  or  a 
banana  were  ever  so  much  more  agreeable  to  my 
taste. 

“Let  us  take  seats  in  the  last  car,”  said  Mrs. 
H — , as  we  stepped  aboard  the  train,  “ for  from  the 
rear  door  we  can  obtain  a view  of  the  whole  coun- 
try, and  that  is  what  you  want.” 

To  that  part  of  the  train,  therefore,  we  betook 
ourselves,  and  soon  were  speeding  through  the 
suburbs  of  the  city,  with  acres  of  vineyards,  orange 


SAN  PEDRO. 


249 


groves,  walnut  and  apricot  orchards,  bounding  the 
track  on  either  side.  The  charm  of  these  fruit 
fields  continued  for  five  or  six  miles  out.  Then 
the  scene  changed,  and  we  flitted  past  a succession 
of  extensive  ranchos.  Around  the  residences  upon 
them  rose  small  forests  of  eucalypti,  planted  as 
much  for  effect  in  the  landscape  as  for  protection 
against  the  sun  and  wind.  The  eucalyptus  is  the 
tree  of  Southern  California  for  elegance  and  style, 
unless  the  dracoena  or  fan-palm  are  its  rivals  in 
these  respects.  As  unlike  as  possible  in  height, 
form,  and  foliage,  they  all  are  extremely,  though 
differently,  effective  in  expansive  grounds.  Each 
studied  as  it  deserves,  awakens  lofty  thoughts.  The 
springs  of  poetry  are  in  all  of  them.  Though  seen 
every  day,  they  are  the  same  impressive  objects. 
One  never  tires  of  them.  In  that  happy  day  when 
“all  the  trees  of  the  field  shall  clap  their  hands,” 
may  the  eucalyptus,  dracoena,  and  fan-palm  help 
make  the  music ! 

Again  the  panorama  changes,  and  we  have  a 
vision  of  broad,  bare,  brown  hills,  slopes,  and  levels, 
off  westward ; but  toward  the  south  a picture  of 
smooth  water,  blue  as  the  cloudless  sky  over  our 
heads.  It  is  San  Pedro  Bay.  Now  we  rumble 
into  Wilmington,  situated  at  the  head  of  tide-water 


250 


CALIFORNIA . 


on  Wilmington  Bay,  or  “ the  inner  harbor,”  as  it 
is  often  called,  and  five  miles  from  the  anchorage 
of  the  great  ocean  ships  and  steamers.  It  is  ap- 
proaching eleven  o’clock  in  the  morning,  and  the 
tide  is  now  in,  making  the  little  place  look  attract- 
ive with  its  foreground  of  shimmering  sea.  But 
wait  until  we  return  this  afternoon,  then  we  shall 
find  it  high  and  dry  on  the  edge  of  a long  stretch 
of  wet  marsh  and  mud.  In  1882. an  act  of  Congress 
established  the  “ customs  district  of  Wilmington,” 
making  the  place  the  port  of  entry  for  Southern 
California,  and  Hueneme,  Santa  Barbara,  and  San 
Buena  Ventura  its  ports  of  delivery.  The  young 
town  has  a fair  prospect  of  growth. 

But  it  is  the  grand  old  ocean  itself  we  desire  to 
see,  and  so  we  continue  our  ride  three  miles  and  a 
half  over  a row  of  piles  standing  deep  in  water  to 
San  Pedro,  close  to  the  sea,  but  sheltered  from  the 
furious  north-west  winds  by  a high  bluff  on  the 
right,  and  commanding  a magnificent  view  of  the 
outer  bay,  the  roadstead,  and  that  “ classic  mound” 
at  the  mouth  of  the  harbor,  called  Dead  Man’s 
Island. 

The  bay  of  San  Pedro  sets  up  into  the  mainland 
from  the  Pacific  in  a north-easterly  direction,  and 
from  east  to  west  is  three  and  one-half  miles  wide. 


SAN  PEDRO . 


251 


Back  from  its  shores  some  distance  lie  the  flourish- 
ing towns  of  Orange,  Tustin,  Santa  Ana,  and 
Westminster.  While  hugging  the  water’s  edge, 
almost  due  east  of  San  Pedro,  can  be  discerned 
“ Long  Beach,”  a new  Summer  resort  in  high  favor 
among  lovers  of  sea-side  pleasures  throughout  all  this 
region.  And  away  to  the  southward  thirty-five 
miles,  out  of  sight,  stand  the  interesting  ruins  of  the 
old  mission  of  San  Juan  Capistrano. 

Our  train  drawing  up  alongside  the  dock  of  the 
Pacific  Coast  Steamship  Company,  we  tarried  a few 
moments  to  see  our  fellow  passengers,  most  of  whom 
were  bound  up  the  coast,  embark  on  board  the 
transport  which  was  to  convey  them  off*  to  the  great 
steamer  Santa  Rosa , anchored  in  the  roadstead,  and 
pouring  from  her  tall,  black  pipes  columns  of  dense 
smoke  into  the  pure  salt-scented  air.  Then  turn- 
ing away  we  walked  up  the  beach  a half-mile  or 
less,  to  Timms’  Point,  where  stand  the  pleasant 
home  of  Captain  Timms,  once  the  owner  of  six 
thousand  acres  adjoining  the  point,  a cottage  occu- 
pied by  a Presbyterian  minister  and  his  family,  from 
Pasadena,  and  those  of  one  or  two  other  parties 
who  had  come  to  the  spot  for  a new  lease  of  life. 
Seated  on  the  porch  of  the  captain’s  cottage,  and 
looking  southward  we  had  an  extended  view  of  the 


252 


CALIFORNIA . 


sea  and  outer  bay.  In  the  harbor,  besides  the  Santa 
Rosa , lay  a number  of  large  merchant  ships — five 
of  them  English— which  had  come  in  freighted  with 
coal  from  Australia,  and  having  discharged  their 
cargoes,  were  loading  with  wheat  grown  in  the  Ca- 
huenga,  Los  Angeles,  and  San  Gabriel  Valleys. 
Both  these  commodities  were  conveyed,  the  one 
from,  the  other  to,  the  ships  by  transports  at  great 
expense.  Upon  every  ton  of  coal  from  Australia, 
unladed  at  the  port,  the  government  receives  a duty 
of  seventy-five  cents. 

From  Dead  Man’s  Island,  at  the  very  mouth  of 
the  harbor  and  just  in  front  of  the  cottage,  there 
stretches  to  Rattlesnake  Island,  a low,  sandy  reach 
of  land  in  the  northern  part  of  the  outer  bay,  a 
costly  breakwater,  one  mile  and  a quarter  in  length, 
on  which  the  government  has  expended  three-fourths 
of  a million  of  dollars,  in  order  to  provide  a chan- 
nel of  sufficient  depth  to  float  up  to  the  docks  at 
San  Pedro  the  largest  ocean  vessels.  As  yet  the 
work  proves  but  a partial  success,  and  there  are 
persons  who  openly  assert  that  the  object  can  never 
be  attained  with  the  breakwater  in  its  present  posi- 
tion. Some  distance  from  Timms’  Point,  on  the 
west,  a head  of  land  makes  out  into  the  ocean,  from 
which,  it  is  said,  if  the  defense  had  been  constructed 


SAN  PEDRO. 


253 


to  Dead  Man’s  Island,  a harbor  would  have  been 
secured  capacious  and  deep  enough  to  have  admitted 
all  the  shipping  likely  to  visit  the  port  at  any  one 
time.  As  it  is,  the  north-west  wind,  which  almost 
talks  around  these  points,  drives  the  sand  into  the 
channel,  necessitating  constant  dredging  to  preserve 
a passage  that  will  admit  lumber  vessels  and  steamers 
of  ordinary  size.  The  last  Congress  appropriated 
$75,000  to  continue  the  improvement  of  the  harbor. 

Captain  Timms  proved  to  be  an  old  sailor,  who 
possessed  a bountiful  experience  of  ocean  life  and 
hardships,  besides  a fund  of  knowledge  of  foreign 
countries.  By  birth  he  is  a Prussian.  In  1844 
he  entered  the  American  merchant-marine  service, 
while  a mere  youth,  remaining  four  years.  Then 
he  accompanied  the  benevolent-hearted  master  of 
some  ship,  to  his  home  in  Portland,  Maine,  and 
under  his  direction  studied  navigation,  together  with 
the  rudimentary  branches  of  an  English  education. 
In  1849,  leaving  New  York  as  the  mate  of  a vessel, 
he  came  to  the  Pacific  Coast,  made  an  attempt  at 
mining,  met  with  no  success,  and  disliking  the 
business,  went  to  San  Francisco,  and  engaged 
with  certain  shipping  firms  of  that  city  to  act  as 
their  agent  in  San  Pedro.  Hither  he  came  in  1852, 
bidding  sailor  life  a lasting  farewell,  and  estab- 


254 


CALIFORNIA . 


lishing  himself  as  a commission  merchant,  or  general 
business  man  of  the  region.  Here,  in  sight  of  the 
sea,  with  the  woman  who  came,  a yonng  girl,  from 
the  far-off  home  land,  to  marry  him,  he  has  lived 
thirty-four  years.  The  captain’s  house  is  built 
partly  upon  a government  transport,  which,  during 
the  war  with  Mexico  in  1846,  steamed  into  this  bay 
freighted  with  troops  bound  for  Los  Angeles  to  re- 
enforce General  Kearney,  then  in  command  there. 
After  the  soldiers  disembarked  the  vessel  parted 
her  chains  in  a storm  and  went  ashore  under  the 
bluff  on  our  right.  Sometime  subsequently  she  was 
floated  into  the  harbor  for  repairs,  but  was  con- 
demned instead.  About  this  date  Captain  Timms 
was  meeting  with  some  opposition  from  the  Mexi- 
cans of  the  vicinity,  who  did  not  relish  his  move- 
ments for  permanent  settlement  among  them.  So, 
wishing  to  avoid  a collision,  he  erected  his  dwell- 
ing over  the  abandoned  transport,  holding  that  it 
was  American  territory. 

The  argument  was  a success,  and  fhey  ceased  to 
molest  him.  All  these  years  the  wind  and  the 
waves  have  been  making  land  in  front  of  his  home, 
and  to, -day  the  old  transport  lies  firmly  imbedded 
in  sand  and  pebbles  several  rods  back  from  its 
native  element. 


SAN  PEDRO . 


255 


“For  twenty-five  years  after  we  came  here,” 
said  the  urbane  captain,  “we  brought  all  the  water 
we  used  for  cooking  and  drinking  a distance  of 
three  miles.  Now  we  get  it  from  the  railway  res- 
ervoir, a half-mile  away.” 

Dead  Man’s  Island,  just  before  us,  and  contain- 
ing less  than  an  acre  of  ground,  received  its  name, 
it  is  said,  from  the  circumstance  that  when  on  the 
march  towards  Los  Angeles,  the  troops  above  men- 
tioned had  an  engagement  with  the  Mexican  force 
and  suffered  a loss  of  fifteen  men.  The  bodies  of 
•the  slain  were  returned  to  San  Pedro  and  interred 
near  this  point.  At  this  the  natives  were  much 
incensed,  and  declared  that  if  the  bodies  were  not 
removed  they  should  be  thrown  over  the  high  bluff 
into  the  sea.  Thereupon  the  dead  were  exhumed 
and  re-buried  on  this  little  hillock  rising  out  of  the 
water. 

It  was  in  the  bay  of  San  Pedro,  and  on  board 
the  little  brig  Pilgrim , from  Boston,  while  she  lay 
anchored  off  shore,  near  where,  to-day,  float  these 
seven  large  merchantmen,  that  took  place  that 
cruel  and  disgraceful  flogging  scene  which  Mr.  Rich- 
ard Henry  Dana  so  thrillingly  describes  in  his 
“Two  Years  Before  the  Mast.”  Here  the  com- 
mander of  the  brig,  Captain  Thompson,  with  barely 


256 


CALIFORNIA. 


the  shadow  of  a reason  for  his  cruel  deed,  and  with 
his  own  hands,  punished  two  of  his  crew  until  their 
bodies  were  lacerated  and  dripping  with  blood ; 
and,  as  if  that  were  torture  insufficient,  he  imme- 
diately upon  releasing  them,  ordered  his  boat  low- 
ered and  commanded  the  wounded  men  to  bear  a 
hand  in  rowing  him  to  shore,  three  miles  and  a half 
distant!  That  barbarity  occurred  fifty-one  years 
ago,  but  the  memory  of  it  lingers  about  this  harbor 
still,  and  will  be  vividly  called  up  by  every  reader 
of  Mr.  Dana’s  most  interesting  book  who  chances 
to  visit  San  Pedro. 

San  Pedro  lies  twenty-one  miles  south  of  Los 
Angeles,  occupies  a sightly  situation,  is  a pleasant 
sea-side  resort,  has  a few  hundred  inhabitants,  three 
churches,  two  public  school-houses,  and  is  the  south- 
ern terminus  of  the  Southern  Pacific  Railway. 


XXIX. 


In  the  Santiago  (Hanon. 


OME  one  has  said  that  “prisons  are  not  the 


abodes  of  wicked  men  only.”  Equally  true  is 
it  that  mountain  fastnesses  are  not  the  retreats  of 
criminals  solely.  Men  and  women  have  languished 
long  in  cells  and  dungeons  for  no  other  reason 
than  because  they  opposed  wrong  and  approved  of 
right.  So  have  men  and  women  spent  their  lives 
in  secluded  gorges,  on  lonely  mountain  sides,  not 
because  they  had  infringed  the  laws,  or  were  hiding 
from  justice,  but  for  reasons  as  right  as  are  the 
motives  which  lead  other  people  to  settle  on  plains 
or  in  valleys.  There  are  persons  who  crave  a life 
among  Nature’s  wild  scenes.  The  nearer  her  rough, 
honest  heart  they  can  get  the  happier  they  are. 
Never  is  her  visage  harsh  or  repellent  to  them. 
Marred  or  fair,  in  repose  or  swept  by  storms,  it  is 
beautiful. 

Nor  does  it  follow  that  these  lovers  of  Nature 
are  indifferent  to  the  affairs  of  the  great  family  of 
man  to  which  they  belong.  They  are  lovers  of 


22 


257 


258 


CALIFORNIA . 


their  race  as  well.  Molinos  once  saidr  u Whoever 
wounds  the  Church  of  God  wounds  me.”  So  what- 
ever concerns  the  human  race,  concerns  these  great- 
hearted dwellers  among  the  everlasting  hills,  and 
some  of  them  manage  to  send  down,  or  carry  down, 
from  their  lofty  nooks  a vast  deal  of  help  for  the 
needy  world.  Though  themselves  cabined  in  pure  air, 
they  do  not  forget  the  multitudes  tented  amid  the 
earth’s  moral  miasms  below.  Never  are  they  the 
people  to  say:  “ What  matters  it  to  us  whether  men 
are  blessed  or  wretched?” 

It  is  in  such  a mountain  home,  among  such 
helpful  people,  that  I pen  these  lines  this  morning. 
Or  rather  it  is  in  the  door-yard,  seated  in  the  shade 
of  a spreading  live-oak  tree,  through  whose  branches 
falls  the  yellow  sunlight,  in  flickering  patches,  on 
the  smooth,  hard  ground.  Close  by  stands  the  tiny 
cottage,  with  its  green  blinds,  its  numerous  porches 
and  outer  doors.  Near  the  dwelling,  supported  by 
nine  slender  posts,  is  a square  roofing  of  live-oak 
branches  laid  thickly  together.  The  posts  are  twined 
with  water  ivy  and  other  climbing  vines.  The 
space  sheltered  by  this  canopy  is  the  dining-room. 
In  the  center  stands  a large  table,  at  which  we  have 
just  taken  a delicious  breakfast  of  coffee,  hot  rolls, 
fresh  cheese,  and  thick  white  honey  from  the  apiary, 


IN  THE  SANTIAGO  CANON. 


259 


in  sight  across  the  creek  which  flows  down  the  canon. 
For  this  dining-room  Nature  wove  the  carpet. 
Disdaining  cotton  or  wool,  she  made  it  of  the  earth, 
and  took  pleasure  in  the  thought  that  the  feet  of 
men  and  women  can  never  wear  the  staunch  fabric 
thread-bare.  Feet  may  come  and  feet  may  go,  but 
that  carpet  will  wear  forever. 

Adjoining  the  dining-room  is  the  kitchen,  with- 
out vestige  of  walls.  In  other  words,  the  cooking- 
stove  is  overarched  by  a glossy  live-oak,  the 
heavens  overarching  that.  The  short  pipe  is  kept 
in  place  by  an  ingenious  contrivance,  as  follows : 
Two  slender  poles  have  an  end  of  each  nailed  to 
separate  trees  near,  in  such  manner  as  to  cross  and 
fasten  nicely  just  in  front  of  the  pipe,  while  a cross- 
piece holds  them  in  place  back  of  the  pipe.  There 
is  a twofold  advantage  in  this  arrangement.  First,  it 
is  economical;  second,  when  the  stove  goes  into  the 
house,  as  it  will  at  the  approach  of  cold  weather, 
it  will  be  but  the  work  of  a moment  to  send 
the  poles  flying;  then  the  remainder  of  the  work 
is  easy. 

Nor  must  it  be  inferred  that  kitchen  pantries 
have  been  omitted  in  this  plan  for  open-air  house- 
keeping. Three  or  four  cases  of  shelves  conven- 
iently placed,  some  with  doors,  some  without,  one 


260 


CALIFORNIA . 


secured  to  a strong  tree,  another  set  upon  a couple  of 
boxes,  supply  every  want  of  that  character. 

The  cottage  stands  on  a mere  green  shelf  in  the 
canon,  sixteen  miles  from  its  mouth.  Westward 
from  it  stretches  a narrow  plateau  adorned  with 
grand  live-oaks,  a number  of  them  growing  in  fam- 
ilies from-  one  root.  Fifteen  or  twenty  feet  back  of 
the  dwelling  rises  a steep,  semi-circular  wall  of 
mountain,  and  immediately  back  of  that  a lofty 
cone  towering  to  a height  of  5,500  feet  above  the 
sea.  Across  the  canon,  here  about  six  hundred  feet 
wide,  a second  summit  sends  its  crest  toward  the 
sky.  Beyond  and  north  of  that  stretches  up  cone 
after  cone  in  noble  array,  while  farther  up  the 
gorge,  which  narrows  every  rod  of  the  distance, 
height  crowns  height  in  sublime  succession.  All 
around  is  majesty  and  grandeur.  This  is  no  place 
for  the  wicked.  A fugitive  from  the  law  would  be 
miserable  here.  Only  the  good  and  the  true  can 
be  in  harmony  with  these  massive  works  of  the 
Almighty.  Round  and  about  these  immutable  peaks 
winds  Santiago  Creek;  washing  this  plateau  within 
a few  rods  of  my  feet,  and  sending  over  to  me,  from 
among  its  rocks  and  stones,  a gleeful  “Good  morn- 
ing.” At  this  season  of  the  year — October — it  is  a 
harmless  stream;  but  let  a characteristic  Southern 


IN  THE  SANTIAGO  CANON 


261 


California  rain  descend  for  a week,  and  it  would 
foam,  and  tumble,  and  revel  in  the  midst  of  ruin. 

The  proprietors  of  this  delightful  home,  and  of 
many  acres  of  this  splendid  scenery,  are  Mr.  and 
Mrs.  J.  E.  Pleasants,  both  of  genuine  pioneer  stock 
and  well  known  among  the  old  families  of  the  coast. 
In  fulfillment  of  a promise  to  visit  them,  made  some 
weeks  ago,  I am  now  here,  and  am  enjoying  more 
than  words  can  express  the  bracing  mountain  air, 
the  songs  of  the  birds,  and  the  absence  of  all  city 
sounds  and  voices.  No  wonder  the  Son  of  man 
craved  the  quietude  of  the  mountains,  and  the  rest 
of  “ sweet  Galilee,  where  he  so  much  loved  to  be.” 
Rest,  strength,  and  inspiration  are  in  these  heights, 
in  this  stream. 

Sometime  in  1883  there  arrived  on  this  part  of 
the  coast  a young  man  by  the  name  of  Carpenter, 
from  Kentucky.  He  engaged  in  business  in  Los 
Angeles,  acquired  quite  a fortune,  and  became  the 
possessor  of  an  extensive  tract  of  land  in  the  vicin- 
ity of  Los  Nietos,  which  was  for  many  years  known 
as  “ Carpenter’s  Rancho.”  In  the  course  of  time 
he  married  a young  lady  by  the  name  of  Domin- 
guez, a Spanish  family  then  notable  in  Los  Angeles 
and  Santa  Barbara  counties.  This  couple  were  the 
parents  of  Mrs.  Pleasants.  Her  early  home  was 


262 


CALIFORNIA . 


the  Los  Nietos  rancho.  Much  pains  was  taken 
with  the  young  lady’s  education,  and  she  reached 
womanhood  possessed  of  intelligence,  broad  views, 
and  a kindly  heart.  She,  of  course,  speaks  the  lan- 
guage of  both  her  father  and  mother. 

The  parents  of  Mr.  Pleasants,  both  Americans, 
emigrated  to  the  northern  portion  of  the  State  from 
the  East  before  there  existed  the  faintest  token  of 
California’s  present  enterprise  and  greatness,  and  at 
a period  when  it  required  great  heroism  to  make  a 
stand  for  a home  and  subsistence  in  that  part  of  the 
coast.  Hostile  Indians  and  savage  beasts  lurked 
on  every  hand.  At  the  age  of  twelve  young  Pleas- 
ants was  sent  down  to  Los  Angeles  to  attend  school 
in  the  family  of  William  Wolfskill,  a personal 
friend  of  his  father,  and  at  that  time  the  owner  of 
leagues  of  this  Santiago  Mountain  chain,  and  of  the 
fair  and  fertile  Valley  of  Santa  Ana  spreading  out 
from  their  base.  Mrs.  Wolfskill  was  herself  a Do- 
minguez. Maria  Refugio  Carpenter  was  her  rela- 
tive, and  a pupil  in  the  Wolfskill  school.  Years 
went  by.  Young  Pleasants  became  attached  to 
Southern  California  and  to  Maria  Carpenter,  and 
concluded  to  remain  indefinitely.  To  assist  him  in 
carrying  out  this  resolution,  Mr.  Wolfskill  proposed 
his  coming  down  into  this  section  of  the  country  to 


IN  THE  SANTIAGO  CANON . 


263 


look  after  the  flocks  and  herds  roaming  over  the 
vast  Wolfskill  estate. 

The  proposal  was  accepted,  and  soon  the  young 
man  found  himself  leading  an  easy,  fascinating  kind  of 
life;  one  strongly  spiced  with  danger,  indeed,  but  not 
more  objectionable  on  that  account.  Mounted  upon 
a fleet,  intelligent  horse,  he  rode  up  and  down  these 
wild  canons,  to  and  fro  over  the  lonely  mountains, 
back  and  forth  on  the  grassy  plains,  day  after  day. 
Thus  sped  several  years.  Greater  grew  the  charm 
of  the  mountains,  more  repulsive  the  thought 
of  spending  life  in  some  pent-up  town  or  city. 
Finally  Maria  Carpenter  concluded  that  it  would  be 
pleasant  to  change  her  name.  So,  seven  years  ago, 
the  two,  made  one,  pitched  their  tent  on  this  little 
green  shelf  in  the  Santiago  canon;  gave  it  the  name 
of  Pleasant  Refuge;  made  it  bright  with  books, 
pictures,  and  flowers,  and  made  their  lives  useful, 
as  well  by  dispensing  here  a delightful  hospitality, 
as  by  heartily  forwarding  the  interests  of  society  in 
county  and  State. 

The  cottage  is  located  about  three  miles  from 
the  head  of  the  canon.  From  Santa  Ana,  the  near- 
est town,  it  is  distant  twenty-three  miles,  and  from 
Los  Angeles  sixty.  It  is  neither  a hotel  nor  a board- 
ing-house, but  the  quiet  home  of  a private  family. 


264 


CALIFORNIA. 


And  yet  to  the  sunny  nook  come  old  and  young, 
sick  and  well,  tired  and  hungry,  strangers  and  ac- 
quaintances, the  simple  and  the  gifted,  all  feeling 
assured  of  a hearty  welcome.  When  urged,  as  he 
sometimes  is,  to  convert  his  residence  into  a resort 
for  the  public,  and  take  compensation  for  meals, 
lodging,  and  provender  for  the  teams  of  guests,  Mr. 
Pleasants  always  replies: 

“ I can  ?t  do  that.  I like  to  make  people  happy. 
Every  body  is  welcome.” 

And  Mrs.  Pleasants,  always  in  perfect  accord 
with  her  husband  on  this  point,  says:  “Our  house 
is  capable  of  enlarging  itself  to  almost  any  size ; 
and  then  it  is  quite  worth  while  to  live  to  help 
people  on  their  way,”  or  something  to  that  effect. 

But  not  always  do  guests  come  uninvited.  Some 
are  welcomed  out  of  a great  love  for  them  in  the 
hearts  of  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Pleasants.  This  is  true, 
for  instance,  whenever  Madame  Modjeska,  Count 
Bozenta,  her  husband,  and  their  son  Rudolph,  come 
into  this  gorge  for  a month’s  recreation,  as  they  do 
whenever  their  engagements  call  them  to  this  part 
of  the  world.  It  may  not  be  well  known  that 
Madame  Modjeska  and  her  husband,  desiring  that 
their  son  should  be  reared  under  American  institu- 
tions, and  become  a citizen  of  the  United  States, 


IN  THE  SANTIAGO  CANON. 


265 


left  Europe  permanently  as  they  supposed,  came  to 
Southern  California,  purchased  property  at  or  near 
Anaheim,  and  settled  down  to  pass  the  remainder 
of  their  days  in  quiet.  Three  years  went  by.  The 
competency  they  possessed  at  their  coming  had 
taken  wings  and  disappeared.  This  misfortune 
induced  the  gifted  woman  to  seek  the  stage  again. 
It  is  comforting  to  know,  when  you  are  a wanderer 
in  distant  lands,  that  only  just  words  will  be  spoken 
of  you  by  the  friends  from  whom  duty  forced  you 
to  turn  away.  Such  friends  had  Modjeska  in  the 
Santiago  Canon,  when  she  went  out  to  rebuild  the 
fortune  wrecked  in  the  Santa  Ana  Valley. 

During  the  Industrial  Exhibition  at  New  Or- 
leans Mr.  Pleasants  was  commissioned  by  the  South- 
ern California  Bee  Association  to  act  as  the  super- 
intendent of  the  honey  exhibit  from  this  part  of 
the  State.  He  conveyed  to  the  Crescent  City  a 
complete  line  of  honey  plants  native  to  the  region, 
together  with  a magnificent  display  of  the  product 
itself,  and  sample  colonies  of  the  three  races  of  bees 
at  work  on  the  coast.  Mr.  Pleasants  spent  some 
months  in  New  Orleans,  calling  the  world’s  atten- 
tention  to  the  fact  that  nowhere  does  there  grow  a 
greater  variety  of  rich  bee  food,  and  nowhere  is  there 

made  a finer  quality  of  honey,  than  in  Southern  Cali- 

23 


266 


CALIFORNIA. 


fornia.  The  supply  of  food  is  almost,  if  not  quite, 
perennial,  the  flowers  of  one  set  of  plants  coming 
forward  as  soon  as  others  disappear.  Notable 
among  them  are  the  blossoms  of  the  four  sages — 
the  white,  black,  silver,  and  hybrid;  also,  the  wild 
sumac,  wild  coffee-plant,  golden  rod,  wild  alfalfa, 
wild  buckwheat,  and  many  others.  These  were 
shown  mostly  in  a living  state  in  New  Orleans,  so 
that  persons  interested  might  see  how  they  look. 
Not  only  the  Santiago  range,  but  most  of  the 
mountains  of  Southern  California  teem  with  honey 
plants.  The  San  Fernando  chain  is  especially  pro- 
lific of  such  growths. 


XXX, 


fl  Q5oNDBi^PUii  Flower  Festival. 


devoting  a chapter  of  this  work  to  a South- 


1 California  floral  display  simply,  may  seem 
like  an  inconsiderate  waste  of  time  and  space;  but 
when  I state  that  the  exhibition  was  probably  the 
most  extraordinary  affair  of  the  kind  that  ever  oc- 
curred, that  fact  will  be  received  as  a sufficient 
apology  for  inserting  an  acount  of  it.  Should  the 
reader,  upon  reaching  the  end  of  the  chapter,  regret 
that  circumstances  did  not  call  him  to  Los  Angeles 
last  Spring,  let  me  remind  him  that  a similar  mag- 
nificent fete  will  be  given  in  that  city  for  several 
years  to  come,  and  each  will  probably  exceed  in 
loveliness  the  one  of  which  I am  about  to  write. 
Thus  opportunity  will  be  afforded  to  retrieve  one’s 
loss  in  this  respect. 

Beautiful  exhibitions  of  cut  flowers  and  growing 
plants  have  been  witnessed  in  Calfornia  for  a num- 
ber of  years  past.  Santa  Barbara  has  rivaled  the 
coast  in  the  elegance  and  magnitude  of  her  displays, 
until  Los  Angeles  tried  her  hand  at  the  lovely  labor 


267 


268 


CALIFORNIA. 


in  April,  1886.  Then  Santa  Barbara  lost  her  pretty 
pre-eminence,  and  all  the  rest  of  America  was 
eclipsed.  The  prestige  then  gained,  quite  unex- 
pectedly to  herself,  Los  Angeles  proposes,  albeit 
very  courteously,  to  retain.  The  complete  success 
achieved  last  April  is  evidence  that  this  will  not 
be  difficult  to  do. 

There  exists  in  Los  Angeles  an  organization 
whose  object  is,  to  aid  poor  women  in  the  city  who 
are  compelled  to  toil  for  daily  bread,  and  especially 
women  who  are  strangers.  Sincere  and  earnest  in 
their  purpose,  the  ladies  who  formed  the  organiza- 
tion two  years  ago  set  about  ascertaining  the  extent 
of  their  field.  To  their  surprise  they  found  in  the 
city  a large  number  of  women  whose  earnings  were 
so  meager  as  to  preclude  the  possibility  of  their 
living  comfortably.  Not  a few  were  young  women 
in  frail  health,  who  had  come  to  the  coast  from  all 
parts  of  the  country,  in  the  hope  of  regaining 
strength,  but  lacked  the  means  to  remain  long 
without  some  occupation.  Unable  to  forget  their 
pathetic  discoveries,  these  women  determined  to 
establish  a home  where  those  whose  cases  appealed 
most  strongly  to  their  sympathies,  should  be  fur- 
nished the  comforts  and  pleasures  they  required,  at 
very  small  cost. 


A WONDERFUL  FLOWER  FESTIVAL.  269 


So,  taking  the  name  of  the  Flower  Festival  So- 
ciety, they  resolved  to  give  annually,  for  some  time, 
a grand  floral  entertainment,  devoting  the  proceeds 
to  this  purpose.  An  effort,  which  netted  them  a 
handsome  sum  was  made  in  the  Spring  of  1885,  and 
in  the  Autumn  of  that  year  followed  an  art  loan 
exhibition,  which  also  proved  a great  success  finan- 
cially, and  at  the  same  time  a source  of  many-sided 
education  to  the  public.  How  it  was  possible,  even 
for  women  so  determined,  to  pick  up  in  a city  no 
larger  than  Los  Angeles,  the  extensive  collection  of 
rare,  curious,  and  beautiful  articles,  many  of  which 
were  of  great  interest  on  account  of  their  age,  his- 
tory, or  intrinsic  value,  was  a mystery. 

It  was  not  dreamed,  until  the  work  of  centrali- 
zation began,  what  a wealth  of  rich  relics,  curios, 
souvenirs,  and  heir-looms  were  hidden  away  in  the 
homes  of  this  promiscuous  people.  All  lands  had 
a share  in  the  display.  Kings,  and  grandees,  and 
warriors,  and  skillful  old  art- workers  lived  again 
in  the  garments  and  ornaments,  etchings,  engravings, 
paintings,  carvings,  and  books  of  a past  day.  If 
the  exhibit  proclaimed  any  thing,  it  was,  that  away 
down  in  this  south-western  corner  of  our  country 
dwells  a community  possessed  of  taste,  culture,  and  a 
veneration  for  the  wonderful  handicraft  and  head- 


270 


CALIFORNIA . 


craft  of  the  human  race.  Families  brought  out  for 
an  airing,  articles  skillfully  devised  by  savants  and 
savages,  priests  and  prisoners,  all  showing  that,  spite 
of  the  defacings  of  sin,  man  retains  something,  men- 
tally, of  the  image  of  God  in  which  he  was  made. 

This  over,  the  Winter  was  given  to  preparations 
for  the  event  of  the  Spring.  The  tabernacle  erected 
by  the  churches  of  Los  Angeles  for  the  meetings 
of  Dr.  Munhall  in  the  Autumn,  and  having  a capac- 
ity for  seating  five  thousand  persons,  was  engaged 
for  the  occasion.  The  next  step  was  to  form  the 
plan  of  the  festival.  And  herein,  as  well  as  in  its 
successful  execution,  was  manifested  the  marked 
ability  of  the  society.  The  ladies  determined  what 
features  the  exhibition  should  comprise,  besides  that 
of  the  flowers,  and  placed  each  department  in  charge 
of  some  woman  of  well-known  responsibility  and 
executive  talent,  leaving  her  to  select  her  own  assist- 
ants, and  to  conduct  its  affairs  to  the  end,  according 
to  her  own  judgment.  Then  a gentleman  who 
combined  the  qualifications  of  an  architect  and  of 
a landscape  gardener  was  engaged  to  construct  the 
necessary  booths,  and  dispose  them  in  the  building 
with  a view  to  picturesque  and  landscape  effects. 
Next,  a list  was  made  of  the  parties  in  the  city, 
vicinity,  and  surrounding  towns,  who  would  with- 


A WONDERFUL  FLOWER  FESTIVAL.  271 


out  fail  contribute  flowers  during  the  two  weeks5 
display,  and  also  of  the  kinds  of  flowers  they  would 
furnish.  This  known,  the  city  and  country  were 
districted,  and  the  days  assigned  for  calling  upon 
each  party  for  its  contributions.  Also,  committees 
were  appointed  to  collect  the  flowers  in  each  dis- 
trict on  the  days  specified.  The  object  of  all  these 
steps  was  to  insure  a sufficient  supply  of  flowers 
to  effect  a complete  renewal  of  the  exhibit  every 
day;  and  this  most  astonishing  feat  was  actually 
accomplished. 

Let  the  reader  imagine  the  magnitude  of  the 
task  of  replacing  thousands  upon  thousands  of 
slightly  withered  blossoms,  in  a multitude  of  intri- 
cate and  elaborate  designs,  every  morning  before  ten 
ten  o’clock.  Furthermore,  conceive  of  a country 
which  could  yield  the  lovely  products  in  such  pro- 
fusion that  the  change  could  even  be  thought  of. 
And  think  of  the  daring  and  energy  of  the  women, 
who,  without  precedent,  ventured  to  make  the 
attempt. 

The  plan  inside  the  tabernacle  embraced  thirty- 
four  booths.  Among  them  were  those  named  for 
the  towns  of  Tustin,  Orange,  Santa  Ana,  Pasadena, 
San  Gabriel,  Boyle  Heights,  San  Buena  Ventura, 
and  others,  all  of  which  were  daily  supplied  with 


272 


CALIFORNIA. 


fresh  flowers  and  other  attractions  from  these  com- 
munities,  thus  preserving  their  loveliness  to  the  end. 
The  Tustin  booth  was  conspicuous  for  its  beauty, 
being  kept  filled  with  gems  of  the  florist’s  art.  One 
of  its  marvels  was  a collection  of  pansies'of  every 
known  color,  kept  daily  renewed.  Another  was  a 
miniature  house,  with  walls  of  sweet  alyssum,  roof 
of  red  geraniums,  and  cornice  of  heliotrope.  The 
columns  of  its  piazza  were  wreated  with  smilax. 
The  house  stood  on  a hill-side  built  of  geraniums. 
Leading  up  to  the  front  door  was  a pathway  paved 
with  fragrant  banksia  roses.  Inside  the  lovely 
structure  appeared  floral  designs  made  solidly  of 
either  heliotrope,  banksia  roses,  waxy  calla  lillies, 
or  starry  marguerites,  with  not  a wilted  blossom 
among  them  during  the  entire  exhibit.  San  Gabriel 
showed  a representation  of  its  old  mission  church, 
built  of  tuberoses,  alyssum,  geraniums,  and  other 
effective  blooms.  But  the  Ventura  booth,  with  its 
source  of  supply  at  least  ninety  miles  distant,  car- 
ried off  the  palm  for  enterprise.  Invoices  of  fresh 
flowers  were  dispatched  from  that  town  every  after- 
noon at  five  o’clock,  and  in  twenty-three  hours 
were  delivered  at  the  tabernacle,  fifty  miles  of  the 
journey  having  been  accomplished  by  teams  and  the 
remainder  by  rail. 


A WONDERFUL  FLOWER  FESTIVAL.  273 


At  the  booth  devoted  to  oranges,  trim  cones, 
cubes,  and  pyramids  of  the  royal  fruit  vanished 
daily  with  the  sun.  At  one  or  more  booths  exqui- 
site corsage  and  button-hole  bouquets,  with  little 
fancy  baskets  of  flowers,  were  retailed  in  great 
numbers,  keeping  constantly  employed  in  their 
manufacture  the  deft  fingers  of  a committee  for  the 
purpose.  Besides  these  booths,  a number  were  de- 
voted exclusively  to  the  sale  and  exhibition  of  loose 
cut-flowers  and  growing  plants.  Here  the  lovely 
creations  were  furnished  the  purchaser  in  any  form 
to  suit  his  fancy,  at  any  price,  of  any  variety.  This 
required  no  small  investment  in  twine,  tin-foil,  and 
other  appliances  for  instantly  constructing  hand 
bouquets.  A great  demand  was  created  for  the  yel- 
low marigold  for  corsage  decoration.  Among  roses, 
strong  preference  was  shown  for  the  beautiful  zen- 
wood,  a flower  hnving  nearly  the  same  characteris- 
tics as  the  safrano,  except  that  its  color  is  a 
shrimp  pink. 

How  general,  and  how  warm,  was  the  interest 
taken  in  the  fete  itself,  as  well  as  in  its  object,  is 
apparent  from  the  facts  given,  and  from  the  time 
and  labor  devoted  to  it  by  a large  company  of  per- 
sons both  before  and  after  the  event. 

The  booths  varied  greatly  in  size  and  design. 


274 


CALIFORNIA. 


All  were  covered  with  white  muslin  as  a foundation 
for  the  decorations.  With  this  for  a beginning, 
each  lady  in  charge  of  a booth  taxed  her  taste  and 
skill  in  its  adornment.  The  roofs,  as  a general 
thing,  were  made  either  of  evergreen  boughs  or  of 
tarlatan  in  bright  tints,  while  the  columns  were 
wreathed  with  smilax,  ivy  geranium,  and  many 
other  vines.  A complete  departure  from  this  was 
a booth  fairly  embowered  in  pampas  plumes.  This 
was  very  striking.  Another  exception  was  a booth 
the  inside  walls  and  roof  of  which  were  solid  with 
the  feathery  sprays  of  the  graceful  pepper  tree.  The 
dense  green  effect  was  relieved  by  the  free  use  of 
spirea  in  bloom. 

A magnificent  feature  of  the  place  was  the  fount- 
ain, around  which,  in  a broad  ring  of  green  turf, 
were  imbedded  the  emblems  of  numerous  societies, 
some  being  very  elegant,  showing  exquisite  taste  in 
the  selection  and  arrangement  of  the  flowers.  All 
these  societies  had  a representative  on  the  ground 
replacing  each  day  the  withered  flowers  in  their 
designs  with  fresh  ones.  In  close  proximity  to  this 
appeared  a bank  of  eighty  thousand  cut  roses,  a bed 
of  eleven  thousand  cut  calla  lillies,  and  near  at  hand 
seven  thousand  pansies  showed  their  faces — all  cut 
from  one  lady’s  garden!  Not  one  perished  blossom 


A WONDERFUL  FLOWER  FESTIVAL.  275 


was  allowed  to  be  seen  in  all  these  during  the 
festival.  There  was  no  decrease  in  the  supply  of 
flowers  during  the  entire  time,  and  at  the  close  of 
the  exhibit  enough  were  blooming  in  the  city  and 
country  to  immediately  repeat  the  unparalleled  dis- 
play. Fifteen  hundred  fan-palm  leaves — very  effect- 
ive in  decoration — were  contributed  by  one  family. 

But  March  30th,  the  day  for  the  festival  to  open, 
had  arrived.  To  give  the  final  touches  to  every 
thing  during  the  day  was  an  herculean  task.  But 
when  the  tired  workers  left  the  place  for  their 
homes,  to  obtain  a little  rest  and  prepare  for  the 
evening,  the  tabernacle  presented  a scene  of  beauty 
impossible  for  pen  to  describe.  Now  the  evening 
has  come,  and  what  do  we  see?  A vast  mass  of 
people  so  closely  wedged  together  in  the  aisles  and 
spaces,  that  no  one  can  obtain  any  thing  like  a satis- 
factory idea  of  the  wonderful  display.  Eight  thou- 
sand persons,  it  is  said,  were  admitted  between 
eight  and  ten  o’clock.  The  perfume  from  millions 
of  flowers  filled  the  air.  So  dense  was  the  odor 
that  breathing  was  difficult.  A flood  of  electric 
light  turned  night  into  day.  An  admirably  drilled 
band  discoursed  excellent  music.  The  pretty  toilets 
of  the  ladies  in  the  long  line  of  booths  added,  if 
possible,  to  the  charm  of  the  scene.  The  main 


276 


CALIFORNIA . 


features  of  the  exercises  were  the  procession  through 
the  aisles  of  Queen  Flora  and  her  train,  her  greet- 
ing to  the  people,  and  the  address  of  the  mayor  of 
the  city.  The  attractions  of  the  place  were  main- 
tained unabated  to  the  final  hour.  Multitudes 
thronged  the  tabernacle  day  and  evening,  seeming 
never  to  tire  of  the  beautiful  scene,  and  always  re- 
luctant to  leave. 

Aside  from  the  large  pecuniary  encouragement  to 
the  Festival  Society,  and  the  delight  afforded  to  thou- 
sands of  people  who  had  never  conceived  of  such  a 
sight,  the  exhibit  proved  of  great  utility  in  extend- 
ing the  culture  of  the  finer  varieties  of  flowers. 
Indeed,  the  tabernacle  became  a grand  flower  ex- 
change, in  which  ideas,  knowledge,  and  experience 
gained  in  the  domain  of  Flora,  were  freely  com- 
municated. Men  and  women,  from  far  and  near, 
went  home  to  surround  themselves  with  more 
beauty;  to  multiply  their  ways  of  doing  good. 
Southern  California  immediately  began  to  increase 
its  stock  of  flowers  for  the  next  Spring’s  festival. 


XXXI. 


LOS  flNGELES  mo  SAN  F^ANGISOO. 


E uttered  our  tearful  farewells  in  the  city  of 


Los  Angeles  on  the  morning  of  Tuesday  last, 
having  spent  one  year  among  its  remarkably  sym- 
pathetic and  hospitable  people;  a year  daily  bright- 
ened by  touching  acts  of  kindness  performed  toward 
us  by  stranger  hands;  a year  full  of  obligation  on 
our  part,  obligation  which  can  never  be  discharged 
by  us  in  other  way  than  by  holding  in  grateful 
remembrance  the  friends  from  whom  we  have 
parted. 

The  citizens  of  Los  Angeles  have  set  before  them 
multiplied  opportunities  for  doing  good,  not  only  in 
befriending  strangers  in  health,  but  in  soothing  the 
last  hours  of  dying  strangers,  and  faithfully  do 
many  of  them  improve  it.  Could  all  the  facts  in 
reference  to  their  patient  and  gentle  care  of  such 
persons  be  made  public,  the  gratitude  of  the  whole 
country  would  be  awakened,  since  from  every  quar- 
ter of  the  land  have  people  gone  thither  in  pursuit 
of  health.  Of  these  a large  proportion  are  young 


277 


278 


CALIFORNIA . 


men.  Coming  to  the  coast  very  ill,  oftentimes 
without  fortunes,  in  great  need  of  gentle  attentions, 
they  have  been  received  into  the  homes  of  the  citi- 
zens, and  by  their  inmates  have  been  as  assiduously 
nursed  as  if  they  had  been  brothers  or  sons,  until 
the  end,  when  they  have  been  either  gently  laid  to 
rest,  or  have  with  great  painstaking  been  returned 
to  their  friends. 

Nor  is  it  only  to  the  citizens  of  Los  Angeles 
that  this  tribute  of  acknowledgment  is  due.  Fifty 
other  communities  equally  merit  it.  When  in  the 
enterprising  village  of  Santa  Ana  a short  time  ago, 
several  marked  instances  of  devotion  to  invalid 
young  men,  by  the  citizens,  were  related  to  me.  In 
one  case,  occurring  among  some  Minnesota  people, 
an  outlay  of  nearly  two  hundred  dollars  was  incurred 
for  one  sufferer’s  comfort,  with  no  expectation  of  a 
return  of  the  money. 

I left  Southern  California  with  a prospect  of 
soon  emerging  from  its  “ annual  panic,”  caused  by 
the  tardiness  of  the  rains.  This  uneasiness  rarely 
holds  off  until  the  rains  are  much  past  due.  “Tak- 
ing its  start  about  the  middle  of  Autumn,  it  ac- 
quires dimensions,”  so  states  a clergyman,  “up  to 
the  middle  of  January.  By  that  time,  if  the  clouds 
have  not  sent  down  their  showers,  all  classes  of 


LOS  ANGELES  AND  SAN  FRANCISCO.  279 


business  men  are  at  a white  heat  of  anxiety.”  They 
well  know  that  without  rain,  only  partial,  if  any, 
grain  crops  may  be  expected  themext  year;  and  the 
crops  failing,  there  results  a general  stagnation  of 
trade.  Those  departments  which  depend  much 
upon  the  daily  wants  of  the  community  for  support, 
are  the  best  sustained,  but  a year  of  drought  sadly 
cripples  even  them. 

It  is  said  that  the  panic — very  naturally — orig- 
inates with  the  farmers  and  stock-raisers.  To  the 
former,  a rainless  Winter  signifies  a direct  loss  in 
the  partial  if  not  total  loss  of  his  grain  crop  the 
next  year.  To  the  latter  it  means  the  feeding  of 
flocks  and  herds  from  the  beginning  of  one  Winter 
until  the  middle  of  the  next.  It  may  also  betoken 
the  loss  of  large  numbers  of  sheep  and  cattle  by 
thirst  and  starvation.  On  this  coast,  as  everywhere, 
these  classes  of  producers  are  the  fountain-head  of 
the  money  resources  of  the  country.  When  they 
lock  their  coffers  in  anticipation  of  a dry  season, 
and  institute  a strict  economy  in  the  household,  im- 
mediately the  towns  and  cities  are  in  trouble.  Then 
nothing  but  rain  can  clear  the  sky  of  the  future. 

Probably  no  more  rueftil  looking  person  can  be 
seen  in  Southern  California,  while  a drought  is  in 
prospect,  than  the  owner  of  miles  of  rich  grazing 


280 


CALIFORNIA. 


land,  over  which  roam  his  thousands  of  cattle  and 
sheep.  Several  such  princely  proprietors  of  real  and 
personal  property  reside  in  the  city  of  Los  Angeles. 
Just  before  leaving  there  I was  told  that  about  a 
year  ago  one  of  these  gentlemen,  the  owner  of  a 
celebrated  ranch  situated  a few  miles  from  the  city, 
which  is  stocked  with  between  thirty  and  forty 
thousand  sheep,  had  spent  the  day  on  his  domain, 
looking  after  the  welfare  of  the  animals.  Return- 
ing to  the  city  toward  night,  \m  entered  his  attract- 
ive home,  wearing  a gloomy  countenance,  and 
threw  himself  into  an  easy  chair  before  the  fire. 
Observing  his  distressed  appearance,  his  wife  in- 
quired what  was  the  matter. 

“Wife,”  said  he,  looking  up  at  her  with  an 
anxious  face,  “ unless  it  rains  to-night  I shall  not 
be  worth  ten  cents  to-morrow,  for  many  of  the  sheep 
will  die.  But  an  all-night  rain  would  put  ten  thou- 
sand dollars  in  my  pocket.” 

At  that  moment  there  were  some  indications  of 
a shower.  The  air  was  cold  and  the  sky  was  over- 
cast with  an  unbroken  cloud.  Before  retiring,  the 
anxious  man  went  out  to  take  a look  at  the  heav- 
ens. Lo!  the  whole  vault  above  him  was  as  clear 
as  crystal,  and  thickly  gemmed  with  stars.  Hope 
took  her  flight.  He  re-entered  the  house  and 


LOS  ANGELES  AND  SAN  FRANCISCO.  281 


retired,  disheartened.  But  suddenly,  a little  after 
midnight,  he  heard  the  music  of 

“Myriads  of  massive  rain-drops, 

Falling  on  all  around ; 

Some  were  dancing  on  the  house-tops, 

Some  were  hiding  in  the  ground.” 

That  was  the  beginning  of  the  first  heavy  rain 
of  last  Winter.  The  proprietor  of  the  great  rancho 
was  comforted.  Of  course  fruit  culture  continues 
whether  there  be  rains  or  not,  because  few  vines 
and  trees  are  planted  without  provision  for  irrigat- 
ing them.  Hence  fruit  crops,  and  the  business 
attaching  thereto,  are  assured,  unless  there  come 
untimely  frost,  or  unkindly  insect  to  destroy  them. 

That  portion  of  the  Southern  Pacific  Railway 
which  unites  the  cities  of  Los  Angeles  and  San 
Francisco  bears  the  traveler  through  some  rare 
scenery.  First  it  crosses  the  beautiful  Valley  of 
San  Fernando,  one  of  the  finest  wheat  sections  of 
Southern  California;  the  home  of  the  olive,  fig, 
pear,  pomegranate,  and  grape;  a notable  grazing 
section,  and  the  seat  of  the  Mission  of  San  Fer- 
nando, the  seventeenth  in  order  of  the  line  of  mis- 
sions founded  by  the  Franciscan  Fathers  between 
San  Diego  and  San  Francisco.  Of  the  many  build- 
ings once  constituting  this  mission,  the  most  inter- 

24 


282 


CALIFORNIA . 


esting  is  the  one  erected  as  a residence  for  the  priests. 
After  the  sequestration  of  the  missions  it  was  for 
several  years  the  home  of  General  Andrez  Pico. 
Major  B.  C.  Truman,  writing  of  the  structure,  says: 
“It  is  three  hundred  feet  long,  eighty  feet  wide 
between  the  walls,  which  are  four  feet  thick  and 
two  stories  in  height.  The  great  attraction  of  the 
building  is  the  corridor,  nearly  three  hundred  feet 
long,  and  made  of  columns  and  arches  of  superb 
masonry,  with  tile  roof  and  brick  floor.  A vast 
succession  of  rooms  compose  the  interior,  and  con- 
stitute a private  residence  unlike  any  other  in 
America.” 

Drawing  out  from  the  station  of  San  Fernando, 
where,  on  either  side  of  the  track,  stood  a village  of 
white  tents  occupied  by  the  Chinese  railway  hands, 
we  began  the  ascent  to  the  “San  Fernando  tunnel,” 
six  thousand  nine  hundred  and  sixty-six  feet  long, 
with  a grade  of  one  hundred  feet  to  the  mile,  and 
requiring  seven  minutes  for  its  passage.  Twice  that 
number  seemed  to  have  passed  before  the  light  broke 
in  from  the  front  and  we  dashed  out  upon  Newhall, 
the  shipping  point  for  the  fountains  of  oil  concealed 
in  the  Fernando  range. 

Then  comes  the  Mojave  Desert,  with  its  inter- 
esting cacti  orchards,  or  groves  of  Yucca  palm. 


LOS  ANGELES  AND  SAN  FRANCISCO.  283 


We  whisked  through  miles  of  them,  the  trees 
planted,  in  places,  with  almost  the  regularity  of 
orange  orchards.  Their  clumsy  limbs  and  bunchy 
foliage  give  them  a weird  appearance  which 
allies  them  to  a past  day  and  a vanished  people. 
Mojave  village  springs  out  of  the  hot  sand,  rejoices 
in  the  fervid  sunlight,  disdains  shelter  or  shade,  but 
is  all  alive  when  the  trains  stop  for  something  to 
eat.  From  this  point  the  Atlantic  and  Pacific  Rail- 
way branches  off  toward  the  East,  bearing  travelers 
within  a few  miles  of  that  masterpiece  of  river 
plowing,  the  canon  of  the  Colorado,  and  within  easy 
reach  of  two  of  the  largest  cattle  ranges  on  the 
continent. 

On  my  return  from  the  North  two  years  after 
that,  there  occurred  at  Mojave  a funny  little  episode 
which  showed  how  necessary  it  is  that  women  who 
travel  alone  should  know  how  their  tickets  read. 
As  we  drew  up  at  the  place  a fleshy,  good-natured 
looking  woman,  seated  a little  back  of  me,  arranged 
to  take  her  luncheon  in  the  cars.  Procuring  a small 
pailful  of  coffee  from  the  hotel,  she  was  soon  enjoy- 
ing her  tempting  eatables.  On  a track  close  by 
stood  the  Atlantic  and  Pacific  train,  just  ready  to 
roll  out  into  the  desert.  Most  of  the  passengers  on 
our  road  had  returned  from  dinner.  At  that 


284 


CALIFORNIA. 


moment,  looking  up  in  a careless  way,  this  woman 
inquired  if  we  knew  of  any  one  on  the  train 
going  to  St.  Louis. 

“Are  you  going  to  St.  Louis  ?”  asked  a bright 
woman  from  Phoenix,  Arizona. 

“Yes.” 

“Does  your  ticket  take  you  over  the  Southern 
Pacific?  Seems  to  me  you  must  change  cars  here. 
If  so,  that  is  your  train;  and  it  is  about  to  leave.” 

The  woman  quickly  opened  her  reticule,  exam- 
ined her  ticket,  and  found  to  her  dismay  that  she 
was  booked  to  St.  Louis,  via  the  Atlantic  and  Pacific. 
Away  then  went  her  coffee.  On  went  her  bonnet. 
Pell-mell  into  its  basket  went  her  luncheon.  Two 
ladies  sprang  to  her  side  to  help.  One  caught  her 
wraps  and  umbrella.  Another  her  satchel.  The 
brakeman,  hearing  the  bustle,  came  in  and  seized 
her  pillows  and  blankets.  Then  the  caravan  started 
for  the  other  train,  stumbling  over  bricks  and  stones, 
and  stirring  up  the  dust.  That  moment  the  writer 
discovered  that  the  woman  had  left  her  veil,  seized 
it,  ran  after  the  others,  tossed  it  to  a man  standing 
on  the  platform,  and  asked  him  to  hand  it  to  her, 
just  as  the  train  moved  off.  How  she  must  have 
missed  her  coffee! 

v But  northward  we  go,  off  the  desert  at  last,  and 


SOLEDAD  CANON. 


285 


climbing  into  the  mountains  again.  Now  and  then 
we  cross  warm,  grassy  valleys,  some  of  them 
threaded  by  little  streams  of  water,  talking  gayly 
to  the  everlasting  heights  around.  Now  we  are  in 
the  Soledad  Canon,  thousands  of  feet  above  the  sea, 
and  climbing  steadily.  After  awhile  the  hills  lift 
up  their  heads  grandly.  Around  sharp  pinnacles 
on  the  left,  and  far  above  us,  a snow-storm  is 
raging,  the  only  thing  in  the  awful  solitudes  which 
has  motion,  except  our  steam-impelled  train. 

Finally,  soon  after  dark,  we  gain  the  Tehachapi 
Pass,  four  thousand  and  twenty-six  feet  above  sea 
level.  Here  the  Coast  Range  forms  a junction  with 
the  Sierra  Nevada,  and  the  result  is  some  of  the 
noblest  scenery  in  California.  A descent  of  eleven 
miles,  and  we  have  reached  the  “Loop,”  a bit  of 
railroad  engineering  which  has  caused  more  com- 
ment than  any  other  on  the  continent.  And  when 
one  has  studied  the  ground  plan  of  the  work,  and 
understands  its  object,  he  does  indeed  wonder  that 
such  a plan  should  have  been  conceived  for  achiev- 
ing such  a result,  on  a surface  of  such  a character. 

The  desire  was, to  carry  the  road  out  of  the  pass 
without  running  the  track  up  and  around  the  side 
of  a steep  mountain,  lying  in  the  path  of  the  survey 
at  the  point  where  the  loop  is  made,  a course  it 


286 


CALIFORNIA . 


would  naturally  take,  but  one  involving  heavy  and 
expensive  construction.  To  accomplish  this  a cer- 
tain amount  of  vertical  distance  had  to  be  over- 
come. To  find  how  that  could  be  done  was  the 
great  thing.  Mr.  Hood,  the  young  engineer  making 
the  survey,  drew  a plan  by  which  he  believed  the 
feat  could  be  accomplished  and  avoid  the  mountain. 
He  submitted  this  to  the  board  of  directors,  a 
board  unequaled  in  all  the  history  of  railroad 
building  for  correct  judgment  and  sagacity.  The 
plan  was  at  once  adopted  as  by  far  the  cheapest 
way  out  of  the  difficulty. 

The  loop  is  double  and  embraces  five  folds  of 
tract  To  form  the  first  loop  the  track  makes  the 
circuit  of  the  base  of  a low  butte,  accomplishing  a 
horizontal  distance  of  three  thousand  seven  hundred 
and  ninety-four  feet,  or  about  three-fourths  of  a 
mile,  when  it  plunges  under  itself  through  a tunnel 
four  hundred  and  twenty-six  feet  long,  by  which  a 
vertical  distance  of  seventy-seven  and  one-half  feet 
is  overcome.  The  next  loop  increases  the  gain,  and 
carries  the  road  successfully  out  ot  the  trouble. 
In  a conversation  with  Mr.  Hood  himself  on  the 
subject,  he  stated  that  no  sooner  had  the  news 
of  the  work  gone  abroad  than  he  was  addressed 
relative  to  it  by  European  engineers;  and  as  early 


THE  SAN  JOAQUIN  VALLEY. 


287 


as  two  years  ago  two  similar  loops  had  been  con- 
structed among  the  mountains  of  the  Continent. 
The  Tehachapi  loop  was  very  easy  of  construction, 
and  financially  was  a great  success.  Actual  sur- 
veys show  that,  with  all  the  doubling  of  the  track, 
the  road  is  only  fifty  feet  longer  than  it  would  have 
been,  had  it  been  run  around  the  mountain  side. 

Mr.  Hood  is  now  the  chief  engineer  of  that 
mighty  corporation,  the  Southern  Pacific  Company. 
Last  Spring,  1886,  he  was  busy  improving  the  sur- 
veys for  the  California  and  Oregon  Railroad,  which 
for  many  miles  leads  up  the  stupendous  canon  of 
the  Sacramento  River,  and  after  crossing  some  inter- 
vening rather  level  country,  performs  the  feat  of 
crossing  the  Siskiyou  Mountains,  a chain  which  is 
the  peer  of  the  Cascades  in  height  and  massiveness. 
How  to  surmount  the  difficulties  of  these  great  phys- 
ical features  must  as  thoroughly  tax  the  genius  of 
the  man  as  did  those  of  Tehachapi. 

Our  train  passed  over  the  loop  about  nine  in 
the  evening.  At  early  breakfast  hour  next  morning 
we  were  at  Lathrop,  where  passengers  take  cars  for 
Sacramento.  For  hours  then, our  route  lay  through 
the  vast  San  Joaquin  Valley.  Miles  of  young  green 
wheat  stretched  away  on  either  side.  Farmers  were 
plowing  along  the  way.  It  was  December,  the 


288 


CALIFORNIA . 


Summer  time  of  the  coast.  At  ten  o’clock  we 
rolled  into  Oakland.  An  hour  later  we  were  in 
San  Francisco,  the  metropolis  of  the  Pacific  Coast; 
the  rival  of  Chicago  in  marvelous  growth;  a young 
city,  old  in  wealth,  institutions,  commerce,  railroads, 
and  tributary  towns;  as  cosmopolitan  as  New  York; 
the  gateway  to  the  old  East,  to  the  island  world  of 
the  Pacific.  We  spend  the  next  year  writing  of  its 
affairs,  people,  and  surrounding  country. 


THE  END. 


